


Lonely King

by Lustforfrosting



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Band Fic, Blow Jobs, Car Accidents, Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Indie Music, Indie!Harry, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Content, Smut, Unrequited Love, broken!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lustforfrosting/pseuds/Lustforfrosting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis' parents pass away in a car accident, he inherits a cottage in the woods of Scotland. He ends up spending the summer there; unraveling secrets, mending bonds and creating memories with his best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Place beyond the mind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All lies. 
> 
> AN: This fic is inspired by Justin Vernon’s music and life (member of Bon Iver). All lyrics in this fic are not mine, but from songs by Bon Iver, Frank Ocean, Arctic Monkeys and Sebastian Lind.
> 
> Tip: Listen to Bon Iver while reading.. it will get you in the mood.
> 
> This fic means a lot to me personally, so I really hope you like it.

Louis is a lot of things but he’s not a coward. He doesn’t hide from things and he doesn’t deny the mistakes he has made. He’s come to terms with the fact that he is human and humans are nothing but flaws on endless strings of DNA. It has made a lot of things easier for Louis to come to such a fundamental realisation at such a young age. It made it easier to deal with the fact that his parents hadn’t survived the car accident had taken place only weeks away from Louis’ return home from his year long trip around the world. He’d left everything behind to travel on his own when he finished upper 6th form and it was a terrifying but exhilarating experience. His parents didn’t approve – they wanted him to start university straight away, but it was too crowded in Louis’ head. There was too much cluster. There were things that needed to be settled – things like Harry and the grades on his A-levels that barely made the cut. He didn’t leave to hide, he left in order to give himself a chance to think before he had to face the obstacles that were bound to hit.

He’d been sitting by a river in India just outside of Bombay when his phone rang, his aunt’s name displayed on the scarcely lit up screen.

_“You need to come home.”_

_“I’m coming home in three weeks, it won’t be –“_

_“Louis. Your parents have been in an accident. I’m sorry.”_

That was the moment when he suddenly felt alive, much too alive. The sounds around him were painfully loud and the river beneath his bare feet was suddenly wild as the waves crashed onto the barriers on land that were barely them it at bay.

So he went home to his sisters; to the house holding unwanted emptiness and to the remains of his family. But not for Harry. Not for Zayn or Niall and not even for Liam.

The moment he stepped off the airplane and made his way down hallways of the endless white walls with sweaty tourists pushing at him from all sides, was a moment of numbness. He didn’t feel anything, not even the beat of his own heart or the sound of his own intake of breath.

Serenity finally finds him when he is sitting in his parents’ house with numb hands against his thighs and Harry’s green eyes staring right at him. His aunt picked up his sisters only minutes ago, exclaiming that he should not have the responsibility of his sisters on his shoulders at the mere age of nineteen. He protested but his aunt is a firm lady with strong opinions that don’t go bypassed and there’s also the fact that he hasn’t seen Harry for more than a year. He wants – no, he _needs_ – Harry to himself because he’s been yearning so long for things only Harry can give him. Things like lazy smiles, pretty words sung in whispers and if he’s particularly lucky, a kiss to his cheek.

“Can you sleep here tonight?” Louis murmurs.

Harry looks just as beautiful as when Louis left. Louis doesn’t want to notice but there’s more ink on Harry’s arms, tiny doodles that he can’t make out to be anything at all. Harry’s eyes might be greener, he thinks, and someone might have sprinkled gold dust into them.

“Of course.”

“How’ve you been?”

There’s a beat of silence where Harry clasps his hand around the pendant in the silver chain around his neck. It used to be a paper plan but now it’s a cross and the chain is longer. Louis wonders what it means, deciding it’s possible it has no meaning at all.

“Fine, Louis.” Harry replies calmly.

“Are you mad at me?” Louis whispers because he might as well deal with everything now. There’s no reason to let things catch on more, like the fact that he left Harry – and the other boys, as well – without much explanation or any kind information on how to contact him as he crossed borders in all of Asia.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I just left without saying anything.”

Harry glances down, catches his bottom lip with his teeth and sinks further down into the loveseat. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I get that you had to leave.” He says when he looks up again, eyes wide and honest.

So Louis doesn’t say anything, he simply stares at the wall behind Harry and he almost wants to cry because of the distance between them. There’s exactly two feet between the couch Louis is sitting on and the loveseat Harry is at, but there’s miles too. Roads, forests, cities, lakes and mountains that keep expanding in his mind. He still feels like he’s sitting by that river outside of Bombay and Harry is just a shallow voice in his head – it’s not like he hasn’t been exactly that before.

“You tired?” Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head, heat creating itself in the tips of his fingers because Harry is _talking_ to him and there might be something along the lines of affection in Harry’s low voice.

“You should take a shower. I’ll make some tea.” Harry says and there’s a bit of nervousness lingering around the edges of his words. Louis wants to tear all the walls down, make Harry kiss him breathless and forget the fact that his parents are laying like cold, sickeningly blue dolls on metal tables in a morgue. The thing just is that he and Harry aren’t a couple and they have never been. Probably never will be either, Louis thinks. They are friends and they have been since the moment they spotted each other on the football field in their neighbourhood park. Some things will just never change.

Louis locks the bathroom door behind him and he can’t stop thinking about Harry because Harry is warm and familiar. He can feel Harry’s scent everywhere around him like his presence is lingering right beside him. Louis blinks against the water and unclenches his fists, trying to replay everything that happened before he left to see the world.

What’s clearest in his mind is the slight curl of Harry’s lips, when he told Harry about how in love he was with him. It was an expression on a person that would flinch, like the person was scared and in pain. But Louis told Harry he loved him and there should be a smile on Harry’s face – not a frown. At first Louis didn’t understand why Harry wasn’t ecstatic and not throwing his arms around Louis’ neck in joy. He sat in paralyzing stillness, watching Harry turn over a million rocks in his head, finally deciding that no, Harry’s not in love with Louis and even if there is a possibility, then he isn’t willing to jump.

As it turns out, Harry isn’t willing to jump for anyone. Not even for Louis, his best friend, who he trusts with his own life. Louis wants to jump though and _he did_ , alone. He jumped the minute he was on the plane flying straight to Hong Kong, realising he was alone the minute he looked at the seat beside himself and noticed it wasn’t Harry with his mess of curls but an elderly woman with a red shiny purse tucked neatly between her thighs.

Louis sighs deeply, leans his forehead against the cold surface of the shower’s tiled wall and tries to not think about how difficult and complicated Harry is. He tries to forget all the theories he’s made up about _why_ Harry isn’t willing to jump, to commit, to love. He tries to forget why Harry can’t talk about things that matter, why Harry tries to avoid everything that even has the slightest tint of seriousness to it. Nothing seems to fit though and Louis’ mind just ends up a mess of words that don’t even make sense. He rubs a thumb over his chest tattoo with the lettering “It is what it is” and another sigh escapes his lips.                         

Fresh and clean from the shower, he keeps his gaze averted as he walks down the hallway, avoiding all the family photos clinging to the walls because he’s not ready for that. It’s been a week since he came home and he still hasn’t found the strength to face the reality that now doesn’t include his parents. It’s not because he’s a coward, because Louis _is not_ a coward. It’s because he feels weak, half blinded and he knows it’s okay to feel that way sometimes.

Harry is sitting in Louis’ bed with his feet propped up and his guitar positioned in his big hands. He doesn’t look up when Louis returns, merely shifts a little on the bed and shakes his hair out before sweeping his fringe to the side. Just one cup of tea is steaming on the bedside table. There’s a sun on it and Phoebe’s name is written on it in a childlike font.

“You got a text.” Harry says lowly, eyes never leaving the strings his fingers are carefully touching.

Louis throws the pile of dirty clothes he’s carrying on the floor, and grabs his phone on the drawer.

_“Mr. Cowell is coming by tomorrow at 11. We need to discuss your inheritance. Sleep well, love. – Auntie.”_

Inheritance.

Louis really can’t care less – why can’t Mr. Cowell just send him a letter? Is a meeting really necessary? He snorts to himself because lawyers will be lawyers and Mr. Cowell is probably going to charge Louis forty quid, just for that one hour meeting.

He forgets about heritages and greedy lawyers when Harry’s fingers suddenly start playing on the strings. There’s an odd moment where he forgets to breathe because he hasn’t heard Harry play for so long and he’s forgotten how much he has missed the soothing melodies Harry always plays.

_“This is my excavation and today is kumran_   
_Everything that happens from now on_   
_This is pouring rain_   
_This is paralyzed”_

Harry’s voice is quiet, gravelly and slow as it tunes in with the simple melody that streams from his guitar. Louis makes his way to the bed silently and slides down next to Harry, nestles into his side right under where his arm is holding the guitar. He doesn’t care if it’s not what Harry wants – the closeness – but Louis really needs it. He doesn’t think he’s needed it more than this in his life ever before.

_“This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realisation_   
_It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away_   
_Your love will be_   
_Safe with me”_

Harry keeps playing but stops singing and the melody fades out eventually. Louis’ eyes are drooping, his gaze turning low and he notices that Harry is only wearing black boxers and a t-shirt in a deep green colour. He sets the guitar aside, careful not to jostle the blue eyed boy whose nails are digging into his side, then he shifts down so that he’s on his back and Louis follows suit but never loosens his grip.

Louis absorbs Harry’s heat, sucks it up like honey and shivers ripple through him on repeat when Harry’s thumb suddenly find its way to Louis’ cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” Louis says because he just can’t fucking help it.

“Missed you too, Lou.”

It warms Louis up completely to hear the nickname roll off of Harry’s tongue so easily. He thinks they might go back to how things were, that he might have another chance and that they might figure things out.

<> 

Louis wakes up with his cheek attached to Harry’s hip and a hand cupping the back of Harry’s naked thigh. It’s a bit of a weird position but it feels warm and absolutely weakening, making an uncomfortable pressure to thunder at the back of Louis’ head.

He needs clean air, needs to breathe because everything around Harry lacks air and normal temperatures. Everything around Harry is heated, hazy and just blinding. It numbs Louis’ senses and empowers them at the same time and he really, _really_ needs air.

He gets up and heads out, finding himself standing on the porch for a long time, just watching the street view from his childhood home. He’s not really thinking about anything, not even his sisters and he kind of feels guilty about that. He used to be good at taking care of everyone but himself, so much that it would sometimes become a disadvantage, except now he can’t even bring himself to worry about his sisters and their now questionable future. The only thing he can think about as a distraction from his parents is himself and the things he wished Harry would give him, convinced that he needs them for his survival to be ensured.

He returns to the bedroom after about an hour, but there’s no Harry, just a cold, full cup of tea on the bedside table. The cup with the sun and Phoebe’s name scribbled on it.

When twenty more minutes have passed he finally gathers energy to put on some clothes, choosing his favourite sweats and a soft blue tee. He finds Harry in the kitchen, his figure casting a long shadow on the cabinets from where he breaks the sunlight through the windows. He is bending over a pan with a frown on his face and with his jaw clenched in concentration.

“Morning,” Louis says, because it seems like the right thing to do.

Harry turns around swiftly and the frown is gone. Instead, in its place is a deepening dimple in his left cheek. But he’s not really smiling – Louis knows when Harry smiles and this is not a smile. “Morning, Lou,” He says and he can’t have been up for long because his voice is still fucked up with a sleep.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah, except the part where I woke up to an empty bed.” Harry winks at Louis and returns to his work by the stove with his long fingers gripping a spatula tightly.

Louis’ breathing hitches, which he hopes goes unnoticed but it’s not like Harry would ever comment on it anyway so, really, his worries are useless.

They eat breakfast in a silence that is both soothing and nerve wrecking, keeping Louis on the edge of his chair and his gaze focused on the new gold speckles in Harry’s eyes. His attention goes elsewhere when Mr. Cowell arrives in a suit that is too long on his legs and too short on his arms. His attention goes straight to the paper Mr. Cowell immediately forces into his hand. His eyes feel heavy as they scan the sentences and the little picture in the bottom right corner of what looks like a cabin hidden behind crooked dark trees.

“I’ve inherited a cottage in Scotland?” Louis questions, furrowing his brows, and his voice doesn’t sound nearly as panicked as he feels because he didn’t have any idea this place even existed.

“Yes. It belonged to your grandfather but was passed on to your father when he passed away. And now, well, it’s being passed on to you, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“How come no one ever told me about this?” Louis’ eyes search Harry’s for answers, although knowing Harry is just as clueless as himself.

“Your parents didn’t want you to know about it. I didn’t question their decision since that is completely personal business.”

“They didn’t even, like, leave a note or something? What the hell am I supposed to do with this house?”

“I’m sure they didn’t anticipate their death, Mr. Tomlinson. I suggest you drive up there, take a look at it and if you think it isn’t a place you would make use of, I think you should sell it.” The man places a set of keys on the table with a dead look in his eyes.

Louis blinks and already dreads the necessary trip to Scotland. He will probably end up going alone and he doesn’t think he can handle that.

“Also, I would like for you to make a decision about this house as well, since you are the only one of your siblings who is legal. When you’ve figured it out, contact me. You have my card, right?” Mr. Cowell looks intently at Louis, and Louis doesn’t feel even remotely close to being like the legal adult he appears to be. Mr. Cowell knows that, Harry knows that and Louis himself knows that.

“I have it.”

The older man gets up and Louis follows, grabs Mr. Cowell’s hand, when he outstretches it, and shakes it.

“I look forward to our next meeting.” Mr. Cowell says, already turning for the door.

Louis nods curtly and doesn’t even stay in the hallway long enough to watch the other man close the door behind him. He walks straight into his room and buries himself under the covers, trying to ignore the fact that his sheets smell like Harry’s skin. He has to grimace in order to keep the tears at bay when his nose dips into the pillow Harry used and his scent is so concentrated and strong and breathtakingly pure.

Harry doesn’t join him in the bedroom, probably because he doesn’t know what to tell Louis, probably because he doesn’t know which words would be comforting and probably because he doesn’t have a single answer to any of Louis’ many questions.

<> 

Louis wakes up later when he feels the presence of someone and a shallow breath hits his cheek. He blinks his eyes open and frowns at the darkness that is now substituting the sunlight.

“You awake?”

It’s Liam’s voice and it makes Louis’ cringe because it’s so soft and familiar – so much that Louis just wants to wrap himself up in it like a fluffy blanket. Instead he shifts on the bed and brings the duvet past his head, tightening his grip.

“The boys are all here,” Liam says, ignoring the fact that Louis is actually hiding underneath the duvet, “Shit, Lou, I’m really sorry about what happened. I… I honestly don’t even know what to do, but I want to help you through this and I know the other boys want to too. We love you – so fucking much. We’d do anything for you,” He pauses and a wretched sound escapes his throat – half sob, half cough, “Even if that means picking Lottie up from dance class or the twins up from school or – I don’t know – babysit them when you need a break. I’ll do anything for you, Lou.”

Louis feels frozen and unable to pull the duvet down because he thinks that if he sees Liam’s tear stained expression with his eyebrows pushed together and his bottom lip sticking out, he might start crying for real.

“Niall brought you your favourite sandwich from Sam’s.”

“Okay,” Louis finally croaks out after a long moment of silence.

“You’ll come out soon?”

Taking a deep breath, Louis pulls the duvet down and his eyes find Liam’s eyes which are just as deep and brown as he remembers. He regrets pulling the duvet away though, because the moment it’s down, he feels Liam’s weight crushing down on him, holding him so tightly that it takes every amount of self-control for Louis not to just let the tears run freely. It’s so easier with Liam to feel everything that Louis feels because Liam doesn’t judge, doesn’t say the wrong things, doesn’t tell Louis what to do. He makes it _so easy_ with his way of understanding everything and being so peaceful about it.

Louis wounds his arms around Liam, feeling wetness on his shoulder so he shuts his eyes tightly and pretends he’s somewhere else right now – somewhere where Harry is the one holding on to Louis for his dear life and not the other way around.

Liam pulls away with a smile that looks almost painful. He shuts the door with a soft _click_ behind him and Louis rolls around a little, splays out his limbs. He could definitely sleep at least ten more hours because reality is much too exhausting.

In the kitchen he’s met with a sight that makes his heart clench in fondness because he loves these boys with all of his heart. Harry is perched on a chair in the kitchen with a pen between his fingers and notebook in front of him, Liam and Niall are setting the table for dinner and Zayn is sitting on the kitchen counter by the open window with a cigarette in his hand and lips that are visibly chapped.

“Hey, mate!” Niall half-shouts, “I brought sandwiches for everyone.”

And that’s what Louis likes about Niall because he never looks sad or has that knowing look in his eyes. He is always gleeful and oblivious, and that might be the key to happiness – being oblivious, or at least pretending to be. It’s working for Niall and Louis can’t help but smile back despite it almost feeling weird on his lips.

“Thanks, Nialler.”

Zayn on the other hand doesn’t really say anything. He just looks at Louis with hard eyes that know all too much, because Zayn might be quiet but it’s not because he doesn’t know anything and has nothing to say. Zayn knows stuff about Louis that Louis doesn’t even know.

Harry looks up briefly from his notebook but refocuses quickly, scribbling something eagerly.

When they’re seated at the dinner table, Louis hasn’t even taken a bite of his chicken sandwich before he blurts out, “I’ve inherited a house in Scotland.”

Niall stops eating for a second and then chews slowly, keeping his gaze trained on Louis. “Scotland?” Niall says in confusion.

“I don’t know, mate. Nobody ever told me of it before my lawyer shoved the contract in my hand,” Louis says, “It’s in the middle of some forest.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Liam wonders.

“Gonna drive up there and have a look at it. Then decide if I wanna keep it or not.”

“Can I come?” Niall asks, blue eyes lighting up so brightly that Louis almost has to squint a little.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come too?” Liam asks.

“We’re all coming with you, Lou,” Zayn says almost firmly and his eyes are far away, not lighted up and just _there_ like Niall’s. “We can spend the summer holiday up there, write some music, get drunk…”

“Zayn’s right. We’re all going to split up after the holiday because of university,” Niall says, “It would be nice to spend some time together before that.”

“We could leave after the funeral tomorrow.” Liam suggests.

Louis nods, looks down at his plate and tries to stir away thoughts about the funeral tomorrow because that is something he really doesn’t want to think about, knowing that once he gets started it will never stop.

“Hey, um, Lou, there’s this thing…” Niall begins, eyes flickering between faces.

Louis stays silent, waiting patiently for Niall to continue whatever is on his mind.

“We, erm – well, you were gone and this new kid moved here, he’s in my music class, and he’s really great, Lou, he plays bass so brilliantly, like, he’s been playing since he was four years old –”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well, we offered him a spot in the band,” Niall said, “He’s a good lad. Really good.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, where Niall looks like he’s holding his breath and Louis feels something like a bad conscious thumping in his chest because he doesn’t remember a time where Niall of all people was ever scared to tell Louis something. He sort of almost regrets leaving.

“What Niall is asking is if Josh can come to the house too.” Liam joins in when the silence has lasted just a few seconds too long.

“Yeah… Um, you think you’d be okay with that?” Niall asks, carefully.

Louis looks at Harry for a brief moment for some sort of confirmation and Harry looks breathtakingly sincere with green eyes that seem to have no depth, so Louis nods and keeps his mouth shut.

“It’s a good idea,” Harry mumbles, and Louis can feel Harry’s gaze intensely directed to him. He feels the heaviness of it that makes it impossible to ignore. “We can drive in my car – it’s big enough to fit all of us.”

“Perfect.” Niall says, smiling again.

And then that is that.

<> 

Louis feels weird and on edge as him and Harry sit in his car, all packed up and ready to go pick up the other boys. It’s just past noon and he was in a black suit only up until an hour ago. He can still smell the scent of roses around him and he can still see white caskets before his eyelids – white caskets, stained with dirt. He thinks that that image may be engraved in his mind forever – _that_ image and the image of his sisters with wet napkins in their small hands, wearing pretty black dresses along with sad eyes that doen’t know where to look.

It helped that Harry was there and Louis revelled in the fact that they were holding hands like they did before Louis left. It wasn’t in a romantic way; it was just to show that he cares because Harry is often better at small touches rather than words. He’s only good with words when they’re accompanied by a melody that can back it all up, that can fill the silence he always cringes away from.

“You ready for this?” Harry asks, his pale hands gently gripping the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Harry doesn’t say anything to that but turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. Louis leans against the seat and watches the trees fly by in a speed that makes his eyes feel sore. He greets the other boys quietly when they get in the car and pretends not to notice that Liam still looks like he’s crying. He doesn’t think he can handle watching more red-faced, glossy eyed faces with quivering lips. Not for a very long time.

Josh greets Louis politely; he has a face that is noticeably young and holds large eyes flaming with curiosity. He sort of reminds Louis of himself when he was younger and it makes his hands itch.

They drive for three hours straight before they all feel like it’s too crowded in the car. Zayn is pacing the parking lot with hands that are slightly trembling and a cigarette tucked between his lips that he is desperately sucking poison from. Niall, Liam and Josh skid off to the supermarket to buy the things they realised they have forgotten – things like corn flakes, Nutella and toothpaste. Harry on the other hand just wanders aimlessly in the nearness of the car with his hands in his pocket and curls hiding his eyes effectively. Louis sits on the hood of the car, stubs his shoes against the asphalt and pretends not to be looking when Harry catches his stare.

They drive for another two hours through which Niall drinks six and a half juice boxes, Zayn sleeps with his hands clenched angrily at his seatbelt, Liam tries to start a conversation with Harry multiple times without luck, Josh listens to music on his iPod and Louis just stares out the window, feeling a bit lost. They stop the car because Niall needs to pee and Zayn wakes up immediately at the chance of inhaling more nicotine. Liam stays in the car with Josh because he doesn’t like watching Zayn smoke.

Harry gets out and opens the trunk to grab his guitar. He drags Louis to the bench that’s located in the shadow of an oak tree. Louis' heart beats soundly in his chest because Harry is so close and he thinks Harry might talk actual words to him.

“You want me to drive for a bit?” Louis asks.

“No, it’s alright,” Harry answers lowly, “I can drive the last three hours.”

Louis nods, picks at the white paint on the bench that is coming off.

“What was your favourite place?”

“Hm?”

“When you were travelling… where did you like it the most?”

Louis looks at Harry curiously, and Harry just half-smiles at him, batting his eyelashes briefly.

“I don’t really know. Every new place had a new kind of beauty to it.” Louis says but his throat aches because it’s all white lies and he really wants to say that _it’s here with you_. He just can’t because Harry doesn’t agree, doesn’t want that kind of confession to lay down on his shoulders.

“I wish I could’ve gone with you.” Harry mumbles.

Louis forgets to breathe as he imagines Harry in sunglasses and a backpack slung over his shoulder, walking beside him through the streets of Quezon City in the Philippines with a sun that is burning their skin so easily that they don’t even notice. So he doesn’t say anything – he can’t.

“I really missed you when you were gone, I… I was worried – didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

“I’ll always come back, Haz.”

“I know.” Harry says so quietly it’s barely a whisper. There’s a beat of silence that is only interrupted by hushed whispers from Niall and Zayn in the parking lot before Harry scoots over and wraps his arm around Louis, the guitar awkwardly sliding down his side to make room. The blue eyed boy exhales deeply through his nose and willingly tucks himself in.

He thinks he might have lied twice to Harry because he will always come back, but he doesn’t feel _back_ right now. A piece of him is still by the river in Bombay with cobber coloured dirt on his hands. He’s worried he might never return to himself, worried he might feel like this for the rest of his life – beside himself, overheated and blinded by everything that breathes and shines.

Harry’s fingers flutter over the strings with such delicacy that it makes Louis want to yank Harry’s hand away and replace it on his cheek. Instead he starts humming along to the melody and his heart skips a beat when Harry smiles at that. Suddenly, once he’s got a feel of the melody, Louis starts singing words out too. Words that he doesn’t know what to make of.

_“I have buried you_   
_Every place I’ve been_   
_You keep ending up_   
_In my shaking hands”_

He doesn’t sing more than those few words because his throat suddenly feels thick and the melody Harry is playing is so accurate that it hurts everything inside him. Another moment passes where Harry just plays, but Louis has had enough and it takes him less than five seconds to be seated inside the car again. He’s not in the front seat anymore either – he’s nestled himself up against Liam who whispers a question that goes unanswered but Liam doesn’t push it any further.

They drive the last four hours only taking a break when Zayn’s fingers starts trembling again for his dose. It’s a break of ten minutes and Louis keeps his eyes closed tightly, seated in the car, so he doesn’t have to look at Harry.

He opens his eyes again and lifts his head from Liam’s shoulder when the road suddenly bends into a forest. There’s a green sign on the side of the road with the words “Galloway Forest Park” in white font. Harry fumbles with a piece of paper where he neatly wrote down the address and Zayn unfolds a map, murmuring something about taking a turn in a few kilometres. Louis keeps his eyes glued to the view, trying to memorize everything so he can retell it to his sisters.

It feels like these foreign roads are endless because they just keep driving, getting further and further out until it’s a single road and they haven’t seen another car for twenty minutes. There’s big, green trees everywhere, covering the view of the darkening blue sky above them and it makes Louis feel a bit claustrophobic.

At a point they all begin to get worried that they might be lost, but then the road turns and lights up because the trees are clearing. Shortly after the road starts lighting up, a house comes to view. It’s big and built of dark wood that looks like it has needed an oil treatment for the past ten years. There’s no drive way, just large areas of green grass surrounding the house and then lots and lots of trees.

There’re big, messy letters carved into the front wall of the house and Louis has to turn his gaze away for a second and look at Harry instead because it feels like his parents are still here, and that this place contains all their secrets. He might not be ready to unveil them – not yet, at least.

“Why does it say ‘Emma’?” Niall asks with a voice that is laced with innocent curiosity, when they’ve gotten out of the car.

“I have no idea.” Louis replies and he watches the trees sway with the wind for another minute before he pulls the keys for the house out of his pocket, takes one last breath and aims for the door to unlock it.

He steps inside with adrenaline pumping through his veins, feeling Harry following right behind him. They walk into a big living room with low cushiony couches and fur blankets located in front of a fireplace that needs cleaning. The kitchen is a relatively normal size with panels in dark wood and a large heavy looking dinner table surrounded by chairs that has patterns carved into them. There’s a long hallway with a lot of doors – two bathrooms and five rooms. It’s all furnished and four of the rooms are with beds and closets, but the last room looks like an office with lots of books, stacks of paper and paintings on the walls. Louis decides he can’t look at that right now, because he doesn’t have the energy to go through more emotional torture today.

He walks into one of the bedrooms and decides that he it’s where he wants to spend he night. There’s a queen sized bed with dark green and white sheets, a built in closet and wide windows with a door that leads outside to a small patio. He seats himself on the bed and gets out his phone, checking for any missed calls. There is none, just a text from his aunt wishing him a good trip.

It’s dark outside now, the clock just having passed nine in the evening and he strips off so that he’s only clad in boxers and a tee. The blue eyed boy slips under the covers and keeps his eyes closed until he suddenly hears someone barge through the door, making a lot of noise – bags being shuffling around hastily. It’s Harry with wild curls haloing his face and flushed cheeks, and when he sees Louis, he stills his movements, sets down the bags and his gaze drops to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Louis mumbles through stiff lips.

“Your bags, um, I’m just carrying them in,” Harry glances frantically around in the room and Louis is too tired for Harry’s games right now, so he just closes his eyes again and turns his back to the other boy.

“Thanks.”

“You gonna sleep now?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you need anything else?”

There’s a painful feeling pressuring his chest when he mutters “no” because that is just another lie he’s shoving in Harry’s face to protect himself from Harry’s rejection, which might be a coward move but he just can’t bring himself to care right now. He wants to say that he needs Harry to embrace him with everything he’s got, kiss bruises onto his skin and whisper the words Louis wants to hear, but Louis’ not allowed to say that. He already knows that Harry will never want anything like that.

There’s silence for several minutes and at a point Louis thinks Harry might have slipped out so silently that he didn’t notice, but then there’s a sudden movement and he can sense Harry crossing the space in the room. The bed dips when Harry sits down languidly, peeling off his jeans and tossing his button up on the floor. Then the duvet lifts and he can feel Harry’s coolness radiating only a few centimetres away from him. Louis shivers and curls into a ball, fighting to keep his mind clear.

There’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing in the room and it’s not Louis’ breathing because he’s so quiet right now he’s starting to feel a bit dizzy.

“Louis?”

Louis turns around quickly to be faced with green eyes that fucking _shine_ in the dark.

“What?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, only furrows his brows a little as he shifts closer, so close that his curls touches Louis’ forehead. The green eyed boy stares at Louis for a long time and eventually his hand finds its way to cup Louis’ cheek that is icy cold. The touch brings a flood of heat through Louis and he rubs his feet against each other just to do _something_. Harry’s gentle fingers keep caressing Louis’ cheek, lightly touching at the corner of his eye where the eyelashes meet.

“You’re golden like sunlight, Lou,” Harry whispers, voice gravelly and deep, “So beautiful.”

A blush creeps to Louis’ cheeks that he doesn’t even try to hide because the walls have already been torn down and Harry knows everything there is to know. Their noses are almost touching and Harry’s other hand is crawling over Louis’ skin to wrap around Louis and pull him closer. Louis feels like his head is full of dynamite and it’s absolutely dizzying because Harry is closer than ever before, and his scent is fucking intoxicating in a way that can never be healthy.

Harry is singing words under his breath that Louis can’t bring himself to listen to because his mind is too crowded with wants and needs and something along the lines of hopefulness. Eventually Harry’s hand disappears, leaving the blue eyed boy’s cheek cold for a moment before Harry’s plump lips are touching the skin there. Louis feels paralyzed and motionless like the kiss is poison that sinks into his skin, so he tries to keep his eyes closed and to breathe evenly, thinking that surely Harry has noticed the alarmingly big effect he has on Louis.

When Harry pulls away there’s a fragment of a second where Louis thinks he’s about to aim for Louis’ lips instead but then it’s gone before Louis can even blink. Harry closes his eyes, lies on his back and pulls at Louis’ hand, urging Louis to place his head under his arm. So he does, because how can he not? How can he not just take everything that Harry has to offer? It’s like running back through the fire despite knowing there’s absolutely nothing there that’s left for him to save, because there was never anything there in the first place.

Harry falls asleep shortly, but then the moonlight creaks through the curtains, and Louis never really does.


	2. Eyes at the sky

Louis wakes up feeling dizzy, Harry’s large body crowding his space so overwhelmingly but he can breathe nonetheless and that’s progress, he thinks. He watches Harry for a bit – the even rise and fall of his chest and his slightly trembling lids – before climbing out of bed and making his way to the kitchen.

He pours himself a glass of water and lets his gaze wander around the big room that includes both the open kitchen and the living room. It’s too quiet, he decides, so he makes his way back to the bedroom for his phone.

_12 pm_. Still no texts from anyone. He feels pain in his chest when he realises that he will never receive worrying, annoyingly curious texts from his mother ever again. He turns off his phone and tosses it into his bag, feeling a bit manic as he frantically digs it to the bottom, so it’s covered completely. Remembering how hot it looked outside, he grabs a white tank top with some stupid print on, but still opts to wear his black jeans because that’s what he feels most comfortable in.

Barefoot, he does another round through the house, peaking into Zayn’s room and quickly shutting the door again when he sees the bare expanse of Liam’s back on top of him.

Niall would at least be up by now, unable to contain his eccentric energy for long, but it’s just too quiet and Louis realises he might have gone exploring the surrounding forest with Josh or something, so he decides to go out, trying to localize himself and maybe find the two missing boys.

He grabs his shoes from the bedroom, watching Harry for another second because he doesn’t have much resistant, not right now. He used to be better than this but he’s not sure if he will ever be able to find the same stubborn restraint again.

The weather outside is heavy and warm, leaving his skin  sheen with dampness. The big open grass area surrounding the house has the sun shooting beams directly at it and he thinks to himself that Harry wouldn’t be able to spend much time out here without getting a sun burn. Niall’s football is lying on the grass, the one with Derby FC’s logo on. He’s had that football ever since Louis can remember and it’s torn at the edges now, a little deflated and paled mercilessly by the sun. He kicks it around for a bit, not angrily, just because he has nothing better to do, soon realising it’s a poor distraction.

He hears voices nearing and Louis can recognise Niall’s laughter from a far distance and that is definitely _him_. He juggles the ball as he waits for Niall and Josh to approach him, relieved that the silence that feels deafening between these trees and mountains is about to die. He thinks to himself that of all the places he has been, he has never seen a scenery like this before. Sure, he’s walked through valleys with mountains towering up to the sky. Sure, he has been to a place with so much vegetation that he saw green for _weeks_. But these places were always crowded somehow, if not with tourists then with changing weather patterns and somersaulting thoughts about the big questions in life – they were just _there_.

Technically he’s not alone either because his boys are here with him, ready to do anything he asks with a snap of his fingers. So it shouldn’t be _that_ , but Louis just still feels so alone, like there’s too much hollow space in his mind and that his thoughts keep echoing back and forth. He gets distracted from it when the Niall and Josh’s voices get louder – the brain intrusion is surprisingly soothing and everything he needs right now.

“Hey, Louis!” Niall shouts across the field with a broad grin spread out on his face. “You’re up.”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, smiling meekly and kicking the ball around with more energy, “Where have you two been?”

“Just checking out this place. We found a lake a few yards away,” Niall says, “We took a dip too – well, after I convinced Josh that the Loch Ness monster don’t exist and there’s no need to be scared.”

Josh ducks his head as if to hide a blush, “Shut up, Niall.”

The blonde boy laughs, claps Josh’s shoulder and runs with drips of water running down his neck for the ball that Louis is kicking around half-heartedly. Louis foresees Niall’s tactic and quickly, he dribbles it so that Niall doesn’t get it and even accidently makes Niall fall to the ground. The blonde boy laughs loudly, curls into a ball. Louis briefly notices Josh’s fond stare from afar.

“I’m starving!” Niall exclaims dramatically, “Do you know if Harry cooked some food, mate?”

Louis shakes his head, ignoring the lump in his throat that is created by the mention of Harry.

Breathing heavily, Niall gets to his feet and calls over his shoulder, “C’mon, JD, let’s get some lunch, yeah?”

Josh smiles apologetically at Louis as he passes him and disappears inside the house. Louis knows he should probably follow them, he forgot to get some breakfast and the only thing he feels in his stomach is the light pressure of the water he drank earlier.

He places the ball carefully on the grass and takes a few steps back before running for it and kicking it with all the strength in him that has been bottled up for too long. It jumps four times and stops rolling just by the perimeter of the forest. In all honesty Louis is quite satisfied with himself. He spurts for the ball and dribbles it back to the house as fast as he can before entering the door, already hearing Niall’s loud voice and Josh’s innocent chuckle coming from the kitchen.

He seats himself on a chair and refuses to think about who might have sat on this before him. Instead he watches the two boys playfully argue about what the definition of the perfect sandwich is; only agreeing on bacon to be a part of it.

“Louis, what do you want in your sandwich?” Niall asks.

“Surprise me.” He replies with a gentle smile.

The surprise sandwich is placed on a plate in front of him at the same time that Harry walks into the room, only in a pair of boxers, rubbing his eyes  and running the other hand through his curls in an attempt to calm them from their dishevelled state. Louis completely vetoes the inspection of his surprise sandwich because the only thing on his mind now is how absolutely sexy and beautiful Harry looks. It is mind-numbing and Louis just tries his hardest to keep his eyes on his plate and his concentration on chewing the sandwich calmly instead of looking at the green eyed boy.

“Morning, Harry!” Niall greets and Josh follows suit.

Harry grumbles something incomprehensible in response, his voice all kinds of fucked up with sleep. Louis stays quiet.

“Would you like a sandwich too?” Niall asks Harry.

“Sure.” He mumbles.

“With?”

“Whatever Lou’s having.”

Louis shivers at the way his name sounds in Harry’s throaty voice and takes a large bite, preventing himself from saying anything stupid like how much he wishes Harry would just keep talking, preferably saying Louis’ name as often as possible. Harry sits down beside Louis so that his elbow is only inches from Louis’, while Josh and Niall sit on the opposite side of the table.

“We should make a plan.” Niall says.

“A plan?” Josh muses curiously.

“Yeah, like, what’re gonna do up ’ere all summer. Liam checked the weather forecast for the next two weeks and it’s gonna be brilliant, so I’d say skinny dipping in that lake Josh and I found is a must. No pussying out.”

Louis blinks a few times, trying not to imagine that scenery. He feels Harry shift beside him.

“I’m definitely in.” Harry says.

“Of course you are,” Niall says, eyes glinting, “I don’t know anyone who loves being naked as much as you do without actually being a right man whore. You’re gonna be one of those old, hairy guys hanging around on nudist beaches.”

“So what? Being naked is glorious.”

“Whatever you say, mate,” Niall winks, “Anyway! Tonight, I think we should get smashed.”

“I’m up for that,” Louis says, “It’s been a while.”

He remembers the last time he got drunk. He was in Sydney for about a month where he met a student abroad from Manchester called Aiden. Aiden was sensible, spontaneous and wonderful – nothing like Harry, but still wonderful. They’d exchanged blowjobs in Aiden’s shared flat and Louis had stumbled out drunkenly, after a few more lazy kisses, to walk along the shore and watch the light from the boats flicker. He took the plane to Bombay the following morning and thought about how Aiden was supposed to be distracting. He was supposed to make Louis stop thinking about large hands and red lips, but he just didn’t. Nothing really ever did.

“Then it’s settled,” Niall finishes, satisfied, “I think we should haul Zayn and Liam out of bed now for a proper water fight, yeah?”

Josh lets out an excited noise and both him and Niall scramble out of their chairs to run for the love den. Louis smiles fondly to himself and takes another large bite of his sandwich, excusing him from breaking the silence.

“You left me again,” Harry says with a joking edge to his voice.

Louis’ eyes widen and his breath catches in his throat, “What?”

“Um, in the bedroom, I mean. I woke up alone… again.” He tries for a smile that is supposed to feel reassuring, that is supposed to tell Louis that it was an accident that he hinted at how Louis had abandoned him for the world. Purely an accident.

“Oh,” Louis goes for a smile too, a smile that feels very odd on his lips, “Sorry about that.” He wants to say that he’ll remember for next time but he doesn’t want to push the boundaries too much either, afraid that if he goes too far, Harry will pull himself away.

Harry nods vaguely and gets out of the chair, walking languidly across the creaking wood floor and disappearing down the hallway. Louis briefly glances at Harry’s half eaten sandwich but focuses on finishing his own instead. When he’s done, he collects the plates, throws them in the dish washer and stares out the window for a bit, trying to make time pass so he doesn’t have to meet a possibly naked Harry in the bedroom who’s in the middle of changing into his trunks.

He hears pitchy squealing and loud shouting as he finally makes his way for the bedroom. He bets that Zayn will be grumpy for the rest of the day now with the way he’s been woken up so rudely. He remembers that Zayn almost never showed up for his morning classes because he strongly believed that sleeping in was not a privilege but a necessity, and Louis had almost sort of admired Zayn for stubbornly believing that personal freedom and the authority to make your decisions is something all people should have, despite their age, background and religious beliefs. It’s not that Zayn is unrealistic and naive because he knows exactly how hard life can be with a big family that all are big participants of traditions and such a limited religion as Islam, which he’s not a part of himself. Louis knows Zayn hasn’t eaten a single dinner meal with them since he was fourteen. But at least he has the opportunity, he bitterly thinks, an opportunity he is letting go to waste.

Harry isn’t in the bedroom when Louis returns, so he just sits on the bed for a bit and stares. He’s been doing a lot of that lately – just staring into thin air, trying to clear his head of thoughts but never really succeeding.

“Morning, Lou,” Liam says, appearing in the doorway and startling Louis a bit, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, fine,” He mutters, “You?”

Liam looks at him with this sort of knowing, dark look – lips curled and his eyebrows curved, “Great.”

Louis tries out another one of those odd misplaced smiles. There’s no fooling Liam though and for a second he almost looks sympathetic.

“You’re joining the water fight, right?”

“’Course,” – like he has a fucking choice – “I’ll meet you guys outside in a second.”

“Great. I think Niall already made teams, but, yeah, um – outside.” Liam scatters off in half spoken words and Louis breathes a sigh of relief because Liam is just _too good_. He can’t blame Liam for anything, can’t act upset around him, can’t even _swear_ in front of him. Liam doesn’t give Louis reason to hate him like the other boys sometimes do. Maybe only when Liam gets too involved with shit that is none of his business, but even then it just feels wrong to tell him to back off or whatever, because his intentions are pure and well meant. Things always have to be so fucking complicated.

Louis changes into his blue trunks and walks outside, barefooted on the ignored yet rich green grass, feeling a bit wary.

“Louis!” Niall shouts, waving him over, “Teams are as follows: Liam you’re with Zayn and Louis. Josh and Harry, you’re with me.”

There’s a mutual mumbling of _okay_ running between them.

He manages to avoid looking at Harry for exactly six and a half second before his urges takes over and forces his gaze to land on the boy towering above the others. _Fuck_ , Louis thinks. He forgot that they have matching swimming trunks and for some reason that is both absolutely exhilarating and upsetting at the same time. He’s still as pale as ever with a toned torso and the thought of it have being wrapped around Louis only hours ago make him all jittery. _Fuck_ , he thinks again.

“Grab your weapons, lads!” Niall says, being the good example as he walks over to where the water guns are spread out carefully as if they are going to war.

Louis catches Harry’s eyes before he picks a purple water gun that is decidedly the second best of them.

Harry looks like he’s somewhere else in his mind. Louis wonders idly where that might be.

<> 

They run around on the green grass soaking each other in water for almost two hours before Zayn grumbles something about being tired and hungry, despite him not participating a lot but just smoking heavily like a grouchy kid while standing in the shadow of the house.

Zayn does help Niall carry the alcohol inside from the car and he looks excited to have more poison running through him. It’s ironic that someone like Zayn is _whatever-they-are_ with Liam of all people. Liam definitely doesn’t approve of Zayn’s bad habits and Louis’ overheard their heated arguments before when Zayn crosses lines, even for himself, and his eyes are more than bloodshot, more than just the usual dazed smile settled on his lips. Zayn doesn’t indulge in drugs often but _too_ often according to Liam, to his parents and to society. He doesn’t give a flying fuck though. Never did and probably never will. Louis can’t bring himself to care, really. He’s known Zayn long enough to know that you can’t change him; no matter how much you try.

Louis sits down on the couch, props his feet up on the coffee table as he waits for them to get everything ready. He watches Harry connect his laptop to the stereo, searching for the right playlist, among the hundreds he has, for this particular occasion. Louis misses his playlists.

Josh sends Louis a small smile as he joins him on the couch, looking completely satisfied with everything.

“Where did you move from?” Louis says, randomly, or just because it feels right.

“Leicestershire,” Josh replies, “My dad got a job in London so…”

“Makes sense.”

“You always lived in London?”

“Lived in Doncaster when I was little, moved to London when I was about five, met Zayn and Niall, and I just knew it was the right place for me.”

Josh nods, understanding, “I miss my friends back home, but I like it in London too. Don’t think I will move back for a good while.”

“Kind of grows on you, doesn’t it? The big city,” Louis smiles, “It’s addicting.”

“Yeah,” The other boy replies in a heavy breath and Louis can’t help but notice how Josh’s eyes immediately flicker to the window where you can see Niall and Zayn unloading the car. _Right_.

It’s darker now and in about an hour the sky will have darkened completely, nothing but small stars scattered around and the cold light from the moon there to break it. Louis doesn’t think he has ever been more ready to drink his balls off.

The events that follow seem to hold precious moments in which everything is bearable. Not that he forgets Harry’s green eyes but it all blurs together and he can never be sure. He pretends that the green eyes stuck in his brain are someone else’s eyes. He pretends that the dead skin and white caskets is someone else’s. He fools himself for a few hours and it’s all worth it despite how shit he may feel in the morning.

He’s snapped out of a daze when music starts playing and he doesn’t recognise it. He hasn’t seen Harry for so long and he’s the kind of person who discovers hundreds of new songs weekly. Sometimes he barely listens to one song before he’s on to the next masterpiece, but other times though, he replays his old playlists and it used to bring Louis into pure bliss and nostalgia of memories they had shared. He doesn’t recognise this song though and it shouldn’t bother him, shouldn’t hurt, but it does – a lot. It’s just another reminder that Louis has been gone and doesn’t know them all as well as he used to. A year is a long time when at their age – people change so much, grow up and become who they really want to be.

“Zayn is mixing drinks,” Niall says, approaching Louis and Josh on the couch, “What do you guys want?”

“Just a pint for me,” Josh grins.

“Gin and tonic.” Louis says, absentmindedly, while he stares holes into Harry’s backside from where he’s focused on the laptop in front of him.

“Harry?”

“Rum. And coke.” Harry replies, slowly, as if he’s already downed three drinks.

“Shaken?” Niall questions.

“Stirred.”

Niall nods happily and skids off to the kitchen where Zayn has already got the glasses out. They brought enough liquor to fill a swimming pool, but it will probably be all gone by the time they get sick of this place. Maybe those two things go hand in hand.

Someone decided that they’re too old for truth or dare and Louis feels a bit sad about that, but it’s okay. It’s fine. They’re all too old and it’s not just Louis who’s too old anymore. So they don’t play that, don’t really play anything that makes sense, because tattoos never really make sense and that’s what they’re talking about. That’s what they’re playing. Spot a tattoo and guess its meaning – Harry decided that whoever loses has to get a penguin tattooed on their right butt cheek when they get back home to London. There’s no way Louis is losing this shit.

“Liam! Your turn.” Harry says after just having guessed correct about the lettering on Liam’s arm.

Liam glances around, thoughtfully, before his eyes lands on Louis. “Your compass,” He says, “You got that in India right?”

“Yeah.”

“Lemme see,” He says and gets up from his position on the opposite couch. He grasps Louis’ arm in his hand and flips it, rubbing his thumb over it and staring at it for a long moment. He retreats back on the couch, fitting himself between Josh and Harry. “It points west, so I bet you got it to remind you that home is west. West to Asia or India, whatever.”

Louis narrows his eyes, feeling adrenaline start to surge through his body because he can feel all the heavy gazes on him and it makes him squirm uncomfortably. “Yeah,” He says and licks his lips, eyes flickering around to the different faces, “You’re right.”

Liam lets out an excited noise and says, “Drink!”

So Louis does, relishing in the heat it creates in his throat.

“Your turn, Lou.”

He really wants to ask Harry about some of his tattoos and since Harry took off his shirt, a whole new bunch has been revealed that he desperately seeks meaning of. Harry is just so complicated that Louis thinks none of his theories are true. Harry is unpredictable and some of the ink might just be decisions that were made in a drunken, confused state of mind. What also frustrates Louis is that when he left, the only tattoo Harry had was a star on the underside of his upper arm and now the ink has sunken into his skin everywhere.

Louis’ eyes lands on Niall and it takes a lot of will power for him to do that because he’d rather run his fingers over Harry’s wrists with keys and locks and letters that spells out “ _I can’t change_ ” rather than scrutinizing Niall’s stupidly humorous tattoos. He points at Niall’s chest tattoo – the one of a stickman body right below his left nipple, so the nipple figure as a head.

“I bet you got that when you were drunk.”

“I did indeed! But that one was so easy, Tommo, you’re drinking this shot with me.”

“I agree,” Zayn says.

“Rules are rules and I won, I’m not drinking.” Louis says, crossing his arms and smiling cheekily.

“Just drink the fucking shot, Louis.”

“Zayn –“

“Drink.” Zayn gives him a stern look and quickly turns his gaze back on his phone, looking bored most of all.

Louis eyes him carefully, but downs the shot anyway, with a cheer from Niall as he follows suit.

“Alright, my turn,” Says Niall, glancing around smugly, “Haz, lift your arm.”

Louis’ breath gets stuck in his throat and he fiddles with his hands, eventually shoving them beneath his thighs because he must surely look stupid as fuck, being all nervous like that. He keeps his eyes away when Niall studies the backside of Harry’s arm with a gentleness that makes his insides hurt.

“I think that the ‘ _Hi’_ is completely meaningless and random. Bet you were drunk too.”

Harry smiles lazily with glossy eyes and says, “You’re wrong.”

_Breathe_.

Louis pours up another shot, keeping his eyes still averted and drinks it in one fast, gulp.

“What can it possibly mean, then?” Liam asks, almost a bit mockingly.

“It’s the first thing Louis ever said to me.”

A shock that feels very much like lightening shoots through Louis with a force that is dizzying, bringing him closer to the edge of insanity. He can’t say anything, can’t even open his mouth or move his tongue and it seems like it’s not just him who is silent because it’s not like Harry and Louis’ tense relationship is a secret to anyone. Not since Louis told Harry everything about how he feels and not since Louis spent a week after that moping around, looking like an abused puppy.

“How sappy, Styles,” Josh says, and Louis realises that Josh definitely doesn’t know and that is incredibly comforting and alarming at the same time.

Harry shrugs and his smile fades a bit, but his cheeks flushes slightly instead. Louis watches as Niall gives Josh a certain look and something inside him dies because what is this even... When did it even get like this?

The moment is gone when Harry asks Zayn about his skull tattoo and it literally has no meaning because none of Zayn’s tattoos really do. They’re just splatters of colours on tan skin.

So they move on and Louis forgets that Harry has a tattoo on him that represents _him_ , that it will always remind Harry of him until they are no more.

They continue like that for an hour or two and it’s not because they run out of tattoos but because it gets boring and Louis doesn’t feel like participating anymore. Stupid game.

He smokes a cigarette with Zayn when he’s emptied almost a half bottle of gin and he feels like the smoke settles in his brain, makes everything hazy and slow. He watches with indifference as the smoke curls artfully from Zayn’s mouth – he’s had a long time to practice the tricks.

“You should talk to Harry.” Zayn says with a firm voice.

“We’ve talked.”

“No, you haven’t,” Zayn says, and he’s almost smiling. Louis wants to punch him, “You’ve been a fucking twat to him ever since you got back.”

Louis’ eyes widen and his fists clenches because he’s not in a mood to deal with Zayn’ shit, especially when he’s always so fucking unfair, telling Louis it’s his fault. Isn’t Harry the one who has rejected Louis when he’d laid out everything there is to expose? When he’d admitted to all the little things he felt? According to Zayn, that doesn’t and never did matter at all.

“Have you even seen his face?” Zayn continues, smile morphing into a patronizing grimace.

“What?”

“He looks like he’s in constant torture, Louis. He told me he’s afraid you will leave him again. I don’t think you realise how much he depends on you.”

“I’m not going to fucking leave.”

“Tell _him_ that,” Zayn counters and flicks the butt of his cigarette onto the ground, “ _I_ already know.”

Louis shoots daggers at Zayn as he spins on his heel and saunters back inside to hover around Liam protectively even though there is absolutely no one here to feel threatened by. Zayn is just like that sometimes – claim a spot, wave a flag.

Louis doesn’t feel like joining the others again because it’s just too crowded right now – Harry, the family photos on the walls, the presence of _someone_ in that house and the office down the hallway that he doesn’t have the courage to look into yet. He sits down on a plastic lawn chair – one of those white ones that scrape against the ground and turn greyish over time. He tilts his head back and breathes deeply as he lets his eyes swim in the beautiful night sky. It’s rare that night skies are this clear in London and he savours it, even considers taking a picture of it just to keep the memory safe.

“Louis?” A scratchy voice sounds that can only belong to Harry. He sounds weak though and Louis remembers this Harry. Drunk Harry is always laughing loudly, so loudly that it’s so horrible and endearing. Drunk Harry’s eyes are gleaming with devotion to everything and everyone he locks eyes with. Drunk Harry doesn’t like quiet spaces with nothing but thoughts and the slight noise from the surrounding world. But Harry is in his post drunk state now – Louis can tell because he’s not laughing and he won’t, because his eyes are just half-lidded and glazed, because he’s here where it’s quieter than it will ever be in London and because this weird kind of vulnerability falls upon him where he _craves_ touches like a drug addict craves cocaine.

“What, Harry?” Louis sighs because he’s tired and Harry feels like a lost child in his presence.

“Sit with me?” He replies quietly, sensing Louis’ unexplainable annoyance while gesturing with a blue blanket in his hands.

Louis scrutinizes him first, trying to make out his expression in the dark but it’s useless because Harry is unreadable anyway. A frown on his face always means something else than it’s supposed to mean. “Yeah, okay.” The blue eyed boy nods with slight reluctance that he tries to push away and box up along with the many feelings that are beginning to pool in his stomach.

Harry spreads the blanket out close to the perimeter of the trees so that they’re half hidden and still able to watch the sky as it comes alive. They sit down and it’s only mere centimetres that are separating them.

They manage to sit still for a good five minutes but Louis doesn’t even _breathe_.

He tries to ignore the fact that Harry is scooting closer with whispers falling off his lips – _we still got moonlight, I’m down for whatever right now –_ and he doesn’t think that Harry’s random lyrics have ever been so direct before. Louis keeps his eyes at the sky as he feels Harry’s arm sliding around his waist with a firmness that increases the thumping of Louis’ heart in his chest. Only nanoseconds later Harry’s nose nuzzles into his neck, while his fingers rides up Louis’ t-shirt, grazing the cold skin there.

“Louis,” Harry breathes against the hollow beneath Louis’ ear.

He blinks at the sky again, shuts all thoughts out of his head and turns to look at Harry. Harry is absolutely _breathtaking_ with a skin as pale as the stars, eyes brighter than the moon and curls wilder than the night. Louis knows he can’t say no to this. He’s never been able to say no to what Harry is willing to give, despite this being the wrong place and definitely the wrong time because he can still feel the alcohol stream through his veins, numbing and empowering everything simultaneously. So he just licks his lips and waits for Harry to close the painful space between them.

When he finally does, Louis doesn’t think that he can go back from this and that nothing will ever be the same because Harry’s lips – the ones Louis has been dreaming about for years – don’t disappoint in the slightest. No, they surprise. They’re fuller and softer than Louis expected, closing over Louis’ so wholly and leaving no amount of air between them. They fit between Louis’ lips and move slowly as if testing the waters. Louis can’t fucking help it when his hand cups the back of Harry’s neck, bringing him closer and relishing in the little heat Harry’s body radiates. They kiss slowly and carefully for a long while until Harry suddenly scoots closer and pushes Louis down onto the blanket so Louis is faced with Harry’s flushed face and endless darkness that stretches across the night skies.

He can feel Harry’s hand rubbing Louis’ newest tattoo on his bicep as he crashes his lips down on Louis’ again, this time with more urgency and desperation. It gets messier by the second and Harry parts his lips, prodding with his tongue at Louis’ lips for entrance. The kiss deepens accordingly to Louis’ finger sinking deeper into Harry’s back with an intensity that makes the both of them forget how cold it really is.

Louis’ mind is just random words of praise, of want, of _fuck, shit, yes, Harry, please_. He’s been waiting so long for this moment to finally find him, pushing worries of the following consequences to the back of his mind. Who cares about tomorrow? Not many, especially not Louis and _most definitely_ not Harry.

Louis feels hardness pressing down on his thigh when Harry’s supporting arms sinks lower until they’re sharing heartbeats.

“I missed you so much when you were gone,” Harry says, peppering kisses all over Louis’ face and Louis hasn’t noticed until now but Harry’s eyes are not only bright now but also shiny with tears, making everything spin around at a dizzying speed because he doesn’t understand _anything_ anymore. “Missed you so much.” Harry repeats, brokenly, sending the other boy into a fucking whirlwind of emotions.

It’s a bitter sweet sensation when Harry’s lips return back on his because he can feel the wetness of tears streaking his cheeks and the pleasurable friction as Harry rolls his hips. Louis arches into the way the other boy moves above him, trying to create more heat.

He gasps when he feels Harry fumble with Louis’ fly, trying to get things to make some _sense_ but coming up with nothing at all. Instead all he can feel and think about is Harry’s insistent fingers brushing his cock that is only covered by the thin material of his boxers. He bucks up into Harry’s hand that is palming his front and tugs on Harry’s curls because he can and he doesn’t want to let that chance go to waste – not when it’s such a long time ago since he was allowed to run his fingers through those silky ringlets of curls.

“Jesus,” Louis gets out between hurried breaths.

He sucks in a sharp breath when Harry pulls his briefs down, revealing his already semi hard cock. Harry blows air on it and crawls down Louis’ body to envelop the head of Louis’ cock in his wet,  small mouth. Shivers ripple through Louis and he’s not sure whether it’s because of the slightly chilly weather or because of the way Harry’s tongue works so expertly, lapping at his slit and working himself further down, inch for inch until Harry’s curls are brushing Louis’ stomach.

“Mmfh,” Louis gasps, head falling backwards, as Harry starts bobbing his head on Louis’ length. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Harry hums in response, causing his mouth to get tighter and to create vibration around Louis. The blue eyed boy curls his right hand around Harry’s bicep, feeling his muscles work as he increases his pace on Louis’ dick. The green eyed boy releases Louis and Louis in turn groans at the replacing of Harry’s warm, slick mouth to chilly night air. He catches Louis’ lips in a fierce kiss, and Louis can taste the salty flavor of himself on Harry’s swollen lips.

Harry moves, slides down the other boy’s body again and says with intense green eyes staring straight at Louis, “Talk to me, babe. Tell me how it feels.”

A soft gasp escapes Louis’ throat when Harry’s mouth surrounds his cock again. He wonders how the fuck Harry is expecting him to be able to talk because this is _too much_. He can’t feel his legs anymore and his hands are trembling where they’re gripping onto Harry’s skin but somehow words are formed in his head anyway.

“So good. I – I, fuck, Harry,” He whimpers, as Harry deepthroats him faster and harder. “I love your mouth so fucking much. You’re so good for me – p-perfect,” He stutters and starts moving his hips a bit to meet the pace of Harry’s mouth. “I want to come in your mouth so bad, Haz. God, I’ve wanted to for so long – wanted you, baby.”

The sight of Harry’s red, puffy lips stretched around Louis’ cock brings Louis to the edge of release and what does it is a flick of Harry’s smooth tongue and he’s coming down Harry’s throat, tremors shaking his whole body. The tightness of Harry’s mouth increases as he sucks the come out of Louis’ cock and it prolongs Louis’ orgasms, sending him into a whirlwind of blinding ecstasy.

Harry slides Louis’ briefs back in place and smirks a bit when he looks at the blue eyed boy again.

 “You okay?”

Louis gulps, “Yeah.”

Harry leans down and pecks the other boy’s lips gently.

“I love you.” Louis blurts out.

“I love you too.”

Relief washes through Louis even though he already _knows_ but it’s comforting at least.

“We should get inside, you’re cold, Lou.”

He looks sternly at Harry, brushing his knuckles over the bulge in Harry’s pants, but Harry just shakes his head and kisses Louis’ forehead before getting up from the ground. He outstretches a hand for Louis to take, pulls him up from the ground and sneaks an arm around his waist as they walk in the direction of the light that shines from the house.

Zayn and Niall are sitting closely, talking in hushed whispers and Louis is just too tired to be curious about it so he just lets Harry lead the way to the bedroom. Liam and Josh must have gone to bed already because they’re not to be seen anywhere.

Harry lays Louis down on the bed, pulls the curtain and switches the lights off. He kisses Louis forehead again and disappears into the bathroom to most likely brush his teeth or something but Louis falls into a deep much needed sleep before Harry even has time to return.


	3. Pilgrim

Louis dreams of blood and unkept promises that night. He dreams of knifes shooting through his flesh; of walking around in an intense fog which cuts his sight off; of hearing loud deafening screams of names he’s never heard before and of feeling like he’s dying.

Louis is not afraid of death – it’s the dying part, the part that slowly tears at the seams. He’s afraid of the pain that might come before death and he wishes he will die in a way that is similar to the way his parents died. A blur of a moment that happens so fast that they’re unable to comprehend what’s happening and the next step would just be endless tunnels of soft, warm light. That’s how Louis’ imagines it and it’s not because he thinks about it a lot, just sometimes. He doesn’t want to neglect death, to ignore its presence. It’s a part of existence, he tells himself.

This dream, though, is his worst nightmare. He doesn’t remember dreaming something this intense since he was about seven years old and suffered from night terrors. It’s the kind of dream that makes him question if life is really worth it. It’s the kind of dream that makes him think that living your life is taking a chance, risking that you will go through a painful process of dying and the other opportunity is taking over and killing yourself in a way that is painless and peaceful.

He stares at the ceiling for a long while and pulls the comforter down, not bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat off of his forehead. He vaguely notices that he’s alone in the bed and that it’s still dark outside. He can’t have slept more than two hours.

After a while of heavy breathing and some desperate clenching and unclenching of his fists, he finally gets up, paces around barefooted in his room trying to stir his thoughts away from how heart breaking those screams sounded in his dream and how they  echoed endlessly between the invisible walls.

Eventually he ends up walking in the hallway with all the family pictures. He only looks at them half-heartedly because he’s too tired to study them thoroughly and possibly go through some unwanted self-realisations. He stops in his tracks when he hears the sound of someone tossing and turning coming from the living room.

Somehow Louis knows it’s Harry before he even notices the curls and his toned biceps displayed on the couch. Harry is on his stomach, limbs everywhere and mouth slightly open as he snores quietly. Louis just stares for a long second, feeling like he’s in another world where feelings don’t exist because in that quiet moment he doesn’t feel anything but numbness. But then it hits him like cascades of cold, heavy water pouring over him as he realises Harry is _sleeping_ on that couch and not in the bed they shared the previous night. Harry is _sleeping_ on that couch after he pleasured Louis so intimately only a few hours ago instead of curling himself around Louis like he should be doing.

Louis blinks away the tears that are stinging in his eyes because he really shouldn’t be crying because of this, and what if Harry all of sudden wakes up to find Louis in a sobbing mess? What would he even tell him? Although Harry waking up seems unlikely since he appears to be in a very deep sleep - but it wouldn’t even surprise Louis because karma hasn’t exactly been on his side for the past, what feels like many, years.

Harry tosses, grumbling something while he sighs and tightens his arm around a pillow. His shirt is ridden up, revealing a patch of his smooth skin – skin that Louis is dying to run his fingers over.

He can’t torture himself with the vision for much longer so he turns around and stumbles back to his bedroom, burying his entire body underneath the covers with scary dreams already forgotten.

<> 

It’s Zayn who wakes him up, which isn’t an occurrence that happens often since Zayn is usually the last one to wake up.

“You can’t smoke in here.” Louis mutters into his pillow, his annoyance obvious.

Zayn doesn’t care. “It’s time to get up, sleepyhead. Niall’s organized a trip to some lake, do you really want to disappoint him? You know how he gets.”

The always patronizing edge to Zayn’s voice is not something Louis needs right now. He tugs his comforter up around his neck as if to shield himself from Zayn’s undeniable truth and logic.

“Are we a little hungover today, boobear?” He chuckles darkly.

“Get out.”

“I will need to have a word with Harry if this is how you get each time you two group-masturbate.”

Louis tenses at that and can’t help but close his hands into fists. Zayn is crossing some sort of line right now and it’s just not what Louis prefers waking up to. Instead of placing a well deserved punch to one of Zayn’s oh so admired cheekbones, he sits up straight and gives him a mean glare, “You need to back the fuck off.”

“Why?” Zayn counters, seemingly unbothered by Louis’ anger.

“Because it’s not any of your business.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Zayn says, shifts his leg from where he is seated on the window sill and flicks ashes out the window, quickly sucking the butt to his lips again, “And tell me something, Lou, but why did Harry sleep on the couch last night?”

“Ask _him_.”

“Already did.”

Louis eyes widens at that because of course Zayn has already interrogated Harry. He doesn’t do stuff like that to have something to gossip about and in fact Louis isn’t entirely sure why Zayn bothers but at times he suspects him to be pathetically needing the satisfaction of being _right_ since he’s continuously fucking up his own life. Being able to say “I told you so” must be a very weak comfort though, Louis thinks.

“What did he say?” The blue eyed boy asks, not meeting Zayn’s prying gaze.

“That you don’t want him in here.”

“I’ve never said that!” Louis argues, startled at the instinctively risen volume of his voice.

“Maybe not,” Zayn replies calmly, with smoke blowing steadily out through his nose, “But you know Harry sometimes interprets things incorrectly, and even _I_ have noticed the way you shy away from him, so just – get your shit together.”

“You can tell Niall that I will be right out.” Louis says, through closed teeth. He’s doing everything he can to control his anger towards the dark haired boy who makes no attempt to move whatsoever. “Go.” Louis says, voice shaking and something makes Zayn move, whether it be Louis’ obvious fury or his sympathy finally beginning to awaken.

He closes his eyes as he listens to the sound of the door shutting and lets them stay that way, pinching his nose bridge.

He doesn’t consider himself a whiny person, but he’s lost his _parents_ for god’s sake and you’d think that Zayn would at least take a step back or give Louis a hug like normal people but instead he just continues his constant hammering down on how wrong all of Louis’ decisions are. It’s easy for Zayn to just tell him to get his shit together but how can you get your shit together when your family is split, you’re on your own, you have no education and you can’t even _talk_ to the person you’re hopelessly in love with? Louis’ shit is as spread out and messy as it can possibly be.

He throws on his swimming trunks and a tank that shows off all his tattoos nicely – not that there’s anyone here to impress, really. He eats breakfast with the others and promptly ignores Zayn, afraid that he will lash out and create a scene if he says a single word to him.

He tries to catch Harry’s eyes and throw him a smile but Harry is constantly keeping his eyes on the table and simultaneously scribbling away in his little notebook. It always means that something is on his mind and that worries Louis a bit because Harry possibly regrets what happened last night and if asked about it he will possibly blame it on the amount of liquor they both consumed. Louis doesn’t want to listen to that so he won’t ask Harry about it – he will just box it away for now. But it’s not because he’s a coward.

All six boys walk through the forest, some with excitement, some with indifference and some with reluctance. Louis walks next to Liam and holds onto him when his legs are about to fail him because he’s thinking too much about things he shouldn’t instead of watching the obstacles the forest ground consists of. Liam is talking about the things that have changed back home since Louis left in a calm tone and Louis just listens with passiveness.

Niall and Josh are walking in front of Louis and Liam, laughing as they throw different objects at each other and argue over which direction is the right direction. Harry and Zayn are trailing behind, talking in deep, low voices that set Louis on an edge subconsciously.

The lake itself is not huge but it’s the spaces that are surrounding the lake that makes everything real and on the verge of being scary. Louis realises how alone they are and that there’s nothing but kilometers of empty forests around them. The nature is supposed to feel wild but the trees that are supposed to exhale life just seem dead and unmoving. The animals that are supposed to bustle around in the shadows seem like they’re sleeping and the lake that is supposed to look alive just seems blank and separated from time.

“Alright, lads, we’re gonna swim to the island out there.” Niall says, pointing towards a patch of empty land in the middle of the lake, smile grazing his lips and with the sun making his blonde hair look like pure gold.

Zayn’s jaw tightens and Liam squeezes his hand and for once Louis knows exactly what their silent conversation is about.

Niall’s brought three waterproof backpacks and Louis has no idea what is packed in them but he’s not forced to carry one either so he just strips off his tank top and clutches it in his hand. He ignores the others and takes the first few steps into the water, enjoying the fact that it’s cold but not too cold.

“Nice trunks, mate!” Liam laughs.

Louis turns around to see who he’s talking about and his eyes quickly land on Harry’s naked body and his non existing trunks.

“I would’ve bought leather trunks, but they didn’t have those anywhere, so,” Harry says, smirking and giving a small shrug.

Liam just continues in his fit of laughter and Louis’ cheeks redden as Harry catches his unfaltering stare at Harry’s impressive crotch.

Louis averts his gaze and begins to swim determinedly for the island, subtly noticing the splashing sounds of water that comes from behind him. They swim for about fifteen minutes, taking a short break when they reach an area where Louis can reach the bottom with the tips of his toes, struggling a bit to keep himself above the water. Harry notices and his eyes flashes with intense emotion as he simply walks over to Louis and grasps his right hip tightly to relief Louis from his struggle. Harry is so tall and Louis tries not to notice too often but Harry always looks so firm, solid and shockingly handsome. He can feel Harry’s breath on the back of his wet neck and the butterflies are having a fucking field trip in his stomach.

“You okay?” Harry breathes.

“Yeah,” Louis says, rubbing his temple, “Thanks.”

“Are you sure? You can hang onto me if you want.”

He sucks into a sharp breath and ignores the image of Harry’s strong arms as they work under Louis to get them to shore. “No, I’m fine, Haz.”

The curly haired boy smiles shyly and rubs his thumb over Louis’ skin. He releases the other boy when they begin to swim again, but he never strays far and Louis tries not to put too much thought into it.

When they reach the shore they’re all a little breathless except for Zayn who can’t swim and has been clinging around Liam like a baby kangaroo the whole time. Harry and Josh helps Niall unpacking whatever is in the backpacks while Louis sits cross-legged by the shore, watching the nature evolve around them. Zayn and Liam are embracing intimately by the few trees that are growing on the island, leaving the two in a fragile shadow.

When Louis finally gets up the boys have set up three small tents around what looks to be a bonfire about to be lit up. He paces around for a bit before joining the others, feeling a bit weird in his skin.

“I brought sandwiches,” Niall says, “Anyone want one?”

“Is that’s the only food you can make?” Louis retorts.

“Oi! I can make lasagna too. And like… pasta.”

“And risotto.” Josh adds.

Niall chuckles, “But I burnt that, remember?”

“I’m sure it would’ve tasted amazing if you’d taken it out of the oven ten minutes earlier.”

“You two are cute.” Louis comments, accepting the sandwich Niall is offering.

“Shut it, Tomlinson.” The blonde boy says and Josh blushes pretty crimson.

“So what exactly are we doing here?” Liam asks with his left hand on Zayn’s shoulder and the other one clutching one of Niall’s sandwiches.

“Well, we haven’t skinny dipped yet! And I brought marshmallows and vodka.”

Louis groans and feels his stomach churn at the thought of more alcohol.

“And what about tent arrangements?” Zayn says, giving Louis a challenging look.

“Well –“

“I want the blue tent and dibs on Liam as sleeping partner.”

Niall rolls his eyes, snorting, “Like I expected any differently.”

“Dibs on you,” Josh joins in, the blush never leaving his pale cheeks and with his eyes on Niall.

“Is that fine for you?” Niall asks, eyeing Louis and Harry unsurely.

There’s silence and Louis expected Harry to answer because he always does and Louis doesn’t want to speak on Harry’s behalf either since he obviously didn’t want to sleep in proximity of Louis last night.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Louis gulps, never looking at Harry because he doesn’t think he can handle it.

Niall’s gaze flickers to Harry and he narrows his eyes but then he suddenly smiles and Louis curses himself for not seeing what Harry did that made such a drastic mood change.

“Then that’s settled!” Niall exclaims cheerfully, “Let’s get this bonfire burning. Li, you’re good at this, weren’t you a boy scout once or something? Help me out.”

Zayn laughs loudly at the boy scout thing and Liam groans but gets up anyway to retrieve a lighter from one of the backpacks. Louis just eats his sandwich, adrenaline and nervous excitement creeping up his neck at the prospect of sleeping in the same tiny tent as Harry.

He simply watches as his friends set fire to the wood they’ve collected on the small island, not wanting to participate and fuck something up. He’s admittedly not a nature person.

“You look tired,” Josh says.

“I’m fine.” Louis mutters.

Josh nods, seemingly sensing a limit he doesn’t want to cross.

They put marshmallows on sticks and hovers them over the fire, waiting for the white candy to become softer and brown around the edges. Harry’s eyes are glinting as he eats his roasted marshmallow and they land on Louis, mouth curved into a broad smile. He makes a mess of it and gets the white sticky stuff all over his face and Louis can’t help but laugh at Harry’s stupidity.

A smile tugs on his lips as he watches Harry wipe the marshmallow off his face and can’t help but break into a grin as Harry misses something on his chin.

“You missed something,” Louis says.

“Where?”

“Chin.”

Harry’s hand shoots up to his face and he licks his thumb before wiping it across his chin.

“Left,” Louis guides, praying that he won’t have to intervene and get in closeness of those lips without being allowed to really touch. Harry gets it though. “All gone.” The blue eyed boy smiles.

“Thanks.”

They eat two whole bags of marshmallows and Louis’ stomach aches a bit as Niall begins to sing – or rather scream – an emotional version of Barbie Girl. He might have started on the vodka a bit earlier than the others as usual. Zayn hands Louis a drink with eyes that look almost demanding and he accepts it, not bothering to start an argument with the other lad.

“It’s skinny dipping time now!” Niall announces with a fist in the air.

It’s still warm despite the day coming to an end and the sky looking rather gloomy, putting everything in shadow and the water in pitch blackness.

Niall takes the lead by pulling his shirt over his head, leaving his blonde hair messier, quickly followed by Harry who manages to take his pants off almost at the same time. Liam groans and mutters something incomprehensible, not really being a fan of this sort of thing.

“Is this even safe, Ni? I mean, it’s Scotland. And this is a lake. You know.”

“I already told you that the Loch Ness monster doesn’t exist, Josh. Right, Zayn?”

Zayn smiles as he unzips his pants and says, “Nope. Doesn’t exist.”

“But –“

“No buts,” Niall smiles and puts his naked arm around Josh’s shoulders, “If anything happens I promise I’ll save you.”

“You’re a dick,” Josh laughs, “I don’t need to be saved. I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously not! You look like you’re about to shit your pants, mate.”

“Am _not_.”

“Whatever you say.” Niall grins and lets go of the boy to pull his shorts off.

Louis sighs as he begins to undress, keeping his eyes on the ground and out of possible danger zones. When he looks up again all he sees is the five naked backsides of his friends as they march into the blackness of the water.

“Coming, Lou?” Liam shouts, “It’s not too cold.”

Louis flashes a smile and walks determinedly for the water, curling his toes as his feet touch the squishy ground underneath the water. Taking a few deep breaths he lets himself go under and swirls around in the water, trying to distract himself from how black and endless the water looks.

“This isn’t even the Loch Ness lake, Joshy, come on!” Niall shouts with his entire body under the water.

“Oh, and how do you know it isn’t? This is just a random lake we found and I doubt you’ve researched it.”

“My intuition tells me it’s not.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Josh grumbles as he takes a few careful steps further into the lake.

Niall laughs loudly and splashes water at Josh so it hits his chest and his always blushing cheeks. Louis watches as Niall practically runs through the water to get to the other boy and envelop him in a bone crushing hug before bringing him underneath the water.

Zayn seems to be advancing on Liam and Louis has to turn around when their lips meet and Liam’s hand shoots up to fist in Zayn’s black hair. He turns around to be faced with Harry and his broad torso inked with random tattoos, hair held back in a headband like the ones football players use and the v cut of his hips that suddenly seem much more prominent than usual with the contrast of the dark water.

“Hey,” Harry says, shaking his hair out and causing little droplets of water to land on Louis’ naked shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You scared too?” He questions with a smirk settled on his pink lips.

“No,” – not of the Loch Ness monster anyway – “Are you?”

“’Course not,” Harry smiles, almost mischievously, and takes a few strides in Louis’ direction which makes Louis squirm. He doesn’t move as Harry gets closer and closer – so close that he can feel Harry’s breath sweep across his face. It’s suddenly too hot like an Indian summer is trapped inside him so he closes his eyes for a moment, listens to Harry’s quiet breathing, the murmur from the other boys and the sounds of the water as it moves. When he opens his eyes again Harry isn’t in front of him anymore with green bright orbs but instead he can feel his strong arms circle around him from behind.

“You look a bit scared though,” Harry half-whispers as his hand slides across Louis’ abdomen, feeling silky soft in the water, “Or are you cold?” He asks, pressing his lips to the back of Louis’ neck, mistaking the goose bumps there to be caused by the weather and not the way Harry’s _naked_ skin is practically surrounding him entirely.

“F-fine.”

Louis feels Harry’s teeth grazing his skin as he smiles and _fuck_ , it’s getting too much.

The others have already gone back to their camp and he sees Liam wave at them but Louis’ arms feels too heavy to lift and Harry is too occupied by touching Louis to even notice.

“Harry, look, I –“

“Yes?”

“Are you sure about this?” Louis sighs, trying not to just float into Harry and let himself become one with the wonderful boy.

“About what?”

Louis closes his eyes and exhales heavily as he puts his hand on top of Harry’s which is drawing circles on Louis’ stomach. “This.”

Harry tightens his grip around Louis a little bit – enough for Louis to feel Harry’s pelvic bone grazing his skin. “I’m never sure. But that’s what makes it exciting.”

“You can’t just say shit like that, Haz.” Louis mutters, squeezing his eyes more shut till it hurts a little bit.

There’s a few minutes of silence and stillness around them but suddenly Harry’s hands move to grasps either side of Louis’ hips and his lips move to still less than an inch from Louis’ earlobe. “We should get back, love. You’re cold.” Harry whispers and rubs his chin across the cold skin on Louis’ shoulder to make a point.

Louis nods, sinks a lump and pries Harry’s hands away from his skin and starts swimming towards the island. He can hear the steady sounds of the water moving as Harry swims closely behind him and he tries to distract himself from that by watching the other boys huddle around the fire with plastic cups in their hands.

When he reaches shore he dries himself off with a towel he borrows from Liam and puts on his shorts and long-sleeved button up for the cool late nights like these. He seats himself beside Niall, who looks lost in thoughts and the stars sprinkled across the night sky, with clutched hands and lips that are pressed tightly together, fighting not to tremble.

Liam and Zayn are lost in each other though – they’ve been since the moment they stepped on this small match of land in the middle of everything. They are constantly leaving small touches and looking at each other with gazes that make Louis feels so fucking insignificant because he will probably never have a love like theirs – strong, unconditional and passionate.

“Think I’m gonna go to sleep now.” Louis mutters under his breath when there are tears in his eyes, threatening to escape its confines.

“Us too,” Zayn says absentmindedly, quickly pecking Liam’s lips before getting up from his lap, holding his hand out for the brown eyed boy to take.

Louis averts his eyes and they automatically land on Harry’s briefly. He shoots his gaze to the ground quickly, waves at Niall and Josh, who are quiet for once, and trots toward the dark green tent that’s his and Harry’s.

There’s only one blanket in the tent and Louis prays he will fall asleep before Harry enters so he isn’t forced to think about the feel of Harry’s hips against his backside as he slides in next to Louis for warmth. But he’s not that lucky, of course, because only a few minutes later the sound of the zipper rings in the air and a large, dark figure, smelling like woods and humid rain, enters the small tent.

Louis keeps his eyes closed, trying to calm himself.

“You asleep, Lou?” Harry half-whispers with that low, hoarse voice of his that sends shivers down Louis’ spine.

When Louis doesn’t answer Harry just rearranges himself and settles in behind the other boy like it’s no big deal. Louis tenses when Harry slides his arm around him, riding up his shirt to feel the bare, warm skin underneath it.

“I’m sorry… about everything. I know I’ve hurt you a lot and that – that you had to go and, like, collect your thoughts. But you made me so s-scared, Lou,” Harry voice breaks a little and Louis can’t make himself say anything or do anything that will possibly make Harry clamp shut again, so he just waits for him to finish the waterfall of words that pours from his mouth, “I didn’t think you’d come back and I didn’t even know how to try and bring you back because you just – god, Louis, you were so fucking selfish, leaving me like that without anything, not even a fucking note.”

Harry breathes heavily and Louis’ eyes are still closed, his mind trying to ignore the knife in his chest that is twisting around repeatedly with each truthful sentence from Harry.

“That wasn’t fair. Not to me or the other boys or your _family_ ,” Harry says, voice firmer now, “But now that you’re back, just, shit, you’re not even back. You’re so distant and I c-can’t do it anymore. I know that you’ve lost your parents and I get that that is so fucking hard to deal with, but that’s why you can’t shut me out, not now. Just please don’t let me go, Lou, I need you so much – and I think I know… I know that you need me too. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realise.”

“I’m sorry too.” Louis says and his voice comes out a lot hoarser than expected, as if he hadn’t spoken to anyone for weeks.

Harry freezes for a second like he’s surprised that Louis isn’t asleep or something but then his lips brushes Louis’ neck in a gentle, dry kiss and he knows that they’re okay.

The presence of Harry’s body has already raised the temperature in the tent by several degrees but it’s not uncomfortable at all, more like settling and comforting and just plain _nice_.

It takes Louis a few minutes to decide whether to turn around in Harry’s grasp so he can finally look into his eyes and see the emotions he yearns to be displayed there, and he decides on yes because he should, otherwise he’s being a coward. Louis is not a coward.

Harry’s eyes are half-lidded, brimming with water and so, so green that Louis has to squint a little bit.

“Do you think that we could, um, forget everything?”

“Forget what, Haz?” Louis whispers back because he needs to hear Harry say it.

“That I refused to acknowledge how I feel about you and that you had to leave to, like, get away from me, and that I’m just a plain idiot. Please.”

The blue eyed boy sinks a lump and raises his hand up to Harry’s face to touch the painful frown between his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

And then Harry _smiles_. It’s one of Louis’ favourite things because it makes him want to smile too, want to jump around laughing like a maniac, want to envelop himself in everything that is Harry and want to do everything that he wants.

Louis pokes Harry’s dimple because he can’t help it and he’s just so freaking adorable. The boy giggles quietly at that and cups Louis’ cheeks to bring him up in eye-level. He licks his lips and blinks before leaning in and pressing his full lips against Louis’ thinner ones. He opens his mouth slightly and all Louis’ senses are overclouded with the smell and the taste of the curly haired boy. It feels like being sedated when Harry trails light fingers over his underarm. He closes his eyes and breathes out heavily, relishing in the other boy’s insistent lips, moving languidly – _lovingly_ – against his own. Harry keeps trailing his feather light touches on Louis’ heated up skin though and Louis has to bite his lip from just screaming something ridiculous like _use me_.

And eventually, after what must be hours, their touches fall dead with sleep and their breathings calm as dreams starts to spin in their minds full of colours and lust and _life_. The last thing that Louis thinks before he tucks himself into Harry’s sides and let’s himself go numb is that this isn’t so bad after all. It’s kind of great, really.

<> 

They wake up drenched in mixed sweat from each other and with heads that feel a bit suffocated, needful of air but not of separation. They share secret smiles as they get out of the tent, and _okay_ , Louis thinks, things might still be okay.

Surprisingly the other boys are already up but there’s tension and Louis senses it immediately. He’s always been good at sensing things like that, been good at converting the tension to something positive but also been good to ignore its presence completely. He narrows his eyes as he watches the four boys that are shuffled around the leftovers of the bonfire from last night and notices that Liam and Zayn still look lost in love, so it can’t be them.

But as they get closer he notices Josh. Josh seems like a rather sensitive, genuine and honest person who just can’t _help_ displaying his emotions clearly. He’s frowning with his eye brows turned down, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt like he’s impatient to leave. Louis can’t figure out if it’s just this island, Scotland or the entire continent though. But he’s pretty sure this has something to do with Niall because of the way his eyes are so wide and confused with hands laying flat on his thighs like he doesn’t know what to hold on to.

“Hey, boys.” Louis says.

Zayn is the one who looks up, his expression a bit shocked. “Someone is in a good mood today.” He notes, mockingly.

“What? I just said hey…”

“We all know you’re not one for greetings, for example when you left to Asia without –“

“Zayn,” Liam scolds, “Morning, Lou! And Harry! Slept well?”

“Perfect,” Harry smiles and as usual doesn’t notice anything that’s happening around him at all.

“Good. We’re just about to leave so we can get some breakfast. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, then let’s go!” Liam says, eyes crinkling with joy probably because he gets to swim with his Zayn around his neck. “Niall, Josh? C’mon.” He snaps his fingers in their direction and that seems to wake them up from their daze.

They pack their stuff and swim. Harry swims so closely to Louis that Louis sometimes gets a kick in his shin but the green eyed boy always gives him a full blown apologetic smile, so it’s kind of worth the little blue bruises that will probably appear in a day or so. They swim the distance without breaks and when they reach shore Louis feels a bit knackered but then Harry grasps his hand firmly and they walk through the woods together, small smile on their lips all the while.

Louis tries not to put too much thought into the fact that Josh is walking way ahead of all of them in a fast pace so none of them can catch up. Niall walks beside Zayn who has friendly arm slung around the blonde’s shoulders – there’s just something that’s completely _off_ and despite only having known Josh for two days he already misses the constant banter that wavered between him and Niall.

They eat in relative silence and when they’re done eating Josh gets up promptly, averts his gaze and slams the door to his room with a finality that will surely leave a lot of questions unanswered for some time. Niall doesn’t look okay about it. At all.


	4. Burning rooms

It was Harry who got the “becoming-a-band” idea and they’d all went along with it because he was so green eyed and so passionate about everything – harboring one of those smiles that makes you want to take a leap of faith with the most hopeless of things. It’s worked out fine though and, really, the band thing was inevitable seeing as they can all do their own musical thing – but together it’s almost magical.

Louis has been playing piano since he was five years old even though he’s never gone to a music school of any sort. There would always be a big piano in the living room of the house he’s grown up in. Every afternoon after his mum picked him up from school he would seat himself on the piano bench until his dad stepped through the door and sat down along with him. Louis’ dad played piano like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he was merely playing games with the keys, like they bowed down to his every command without question. And so, he taught his son how to play with the same kind of easiness. Or tried to. Louis was a bit clumsy with his small hands and eyes that were easily distracted, but after years of practice he finally got a grip of it and came to terms with the fact that he would never be as skilful as his dad. But that was okay too.

Liam was a tempered little kid so his parents forced him into taking drumming lessons to relieve him of all the pent up energy - Liam seemed happy enough with that solution. And then there was Niall who bought a guitar one day as he was wandering around town and it turned out to be the start of something new that burst of life and love and _rhythm_.

Zayn was different. He was too impatient for strings and keys and black unreadable dots on old paper but he could sing to listeners who lost their train of thought and let themselves be completely enveloped in his perfect soft tones and the universe stopped blinking for just a little while. Zayn could memorize lyrics just by reading them once and he could memorize melodies with a single listen. He wasn’t much for singing in front of crowds but with Liam’s incredibly persuading eyes and a little pouting from Harry, he caved in.

Harry doesn’t really talk about his family much and so he doesn’t share how he became involved with music. He plays both piano and guitar and has a voice that sounds like he’s had years of vocal training but it’s not something he’s comfortable talking about. So nobody asks, not even Louis, and Harry doesn’t talk. The point is that he’s incredibly talented and somehow that’s what is most important.

Louis is reminded of all of this when the the next early, early morning finds himself full of courage and entering the door of the office down the hall. There’s a layer of dust on all the dark-wooded furniture, making everything feel flimsy and unreal like a dream that hasn’t quite developed yet. There is one thing that is standing out though because in the far corner there’s something big under a white sheet. Louis doesn’t even hesitate when he aims for it, gently feeling the stiff fabric beneath his fingers. It’s like something within him has led him here, he thinks and almost feels a bit scared of himself.

He’s not surprised when he lifts the sheet and glittering dust swivels around in the air because _of course_ it’s a piano. It’s black and shiny with ivory keys that look like they hide the secrets of the world. It doesn’t look worn even though Louis can tell that it’s many years old, several decades even. He sits down carefully, grimacing when the chair squeaks beneath him and shivering when his fingers brush the keys. And that’s when he notices a little folded paper tucked between C and D. His breathing pauses when he reaches for it and feels the roughness of the paper. It’s a little yellow and ruffled around the edges, obviously old like the piano itself. There’s words on the paper, words written with ink that looks like it’s been sucked into the paper and now fills every little creak.

_“Go find another lover to string along,_   
_With all your lies, you’re still very lovable_   
_I toured the land, so many foreign roads_

_For Emma  
Forever ago_ ”

Air feels strange in his lungs when he puts the paper down and his eyes feels so sore. He feels entirely _old_. He’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t have a single clue about who Emma is or the fact that he recognizes his father’s curvy handwriting. The paper curls accordingly with his hand and his forehead hits the smooth, cool surface of the piano. He blinks against the keys and watches the ivory fade into black as water floods into his eyes. His hands flail and land hard on the keys, making a sound much like those that often occur in horror movies. It’s a loud noise and it must have been what woke Harry up because only seconds later Louis feels a large hand rubbing his shoulder blades from behind.

He cries a little harder and the other boy’s hands move to hold tight at Louis’ hips. Louis just goes pliant and lets Harry lift him from the piano bench so easily that it makes him wonder if he lost weight or Harry just got _stronger_ because he surely wasn’t capable of carrying him like this before Louis left.

“Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?” Harry whispers and ducks his head to kiss the other boy’s wet cheeks.

He closes his eyes, breathes a sigh of relief when he lands softly on his bed and feels Harry envelop him in his own heat mere seconds later. He curls himself into Harry and clutches the paper in his hand tighter until it starts cramping a bit.

“It’s alright.”

Louis nods and wonders about how Harry has suddenly developed a calm aura around him when only a few days ago Louis would stress from just being around him, when only  a few days ago he could stir everything up again, when only a few days ago he made Louis’ chest hurt when he tried to breathe. And now, he feels his tears dry and his breathing evening with each second he stays in Harry’s embrace.

“You shouldn’t rush it, you know. May be it’s just not time yet,” Harry murmurs against the blue eyed boy’s skin, “We haven’t even been here for a week, love.”

“I know… it just felt right.”

“Then may be you shouldn’t do it alone.”

“May be.”

Harry looks at the other boy with a small but very fond smile and follows it up by brushing his lips against Louis’. Louis knows exactly what Harry isn’t saying, knows exactly what Harry is trying to convey through the small touches and the depth of his eyes. And so, he falls back into the world of sleep, feeling peaceful but restless at the same time because of the secrets he does not yet know the answer to.

<> 

Louis wakes up again with Harry’s hand on his chest and someone shouting. He blinks a bit, smiles at the boy still sleeping peacefully beside him and rubs his eyes before sliding out of bed. His bare feet hits the wooden floor and he picks up his shirt from last night to put on. He walks out and in the direction of the loud voices, contemplating whether or not he wants to get involved with this.

“I thought you’d stopped with this, Zayn, you’re so full of SHIT! You’ve just been lying to me all along!” Liam roars and Louis has heard that tone of voice come from him before. He doesn’t even have to open the door to their bedroom to know what expression Liam is wearing – teary eyed, brows furrowed, flushed cheeks and with a jaw that is clenched so very tightly – and he doesn’t even have to open the door to know what this is about because this is what it’s always about.

“I told you last time that if this happened again I’d be done. I love you but I can’t fucking do this again.”

“Liam, please, I don’t – you can’t just say that!”

“Let go of me!” Liam shouts and then there’s heavy steps on the floor until something that sounds like glass or porcelain breaks. “Let. Go. Of. Me.” Liam repeats and Louis shivers because it sounds frightening and that boy can get quite intimidating if he wants to be.

“Liam,” Zayn whimpers.

“LET GO!”

Louis decides to make his appearance then because he’s a bit scared for Zayn’s safety even though Liam would never hurt him on purpose, but he can hear Liam’s heavy breathing and the wavering in his voice, and Louis knows of Liam’s anger. He’s experienced it several times – never towards himself – but towards Liam’s parents and mostly just Zayn.

The sight that meets his eyes makes him scared because, sure, he’s seen them fight before, loads of times actually. But not like this, not with tears streaming down Zayn’s cheeks and with his hands clutching tightly at Liam’s shirt, not with Liam’s eyes turned into flames and with his teeth biting his bottom lip so hard that it actually bleeds.

“Li, shh, let’s go,” Louis says quietly, putting his hand on his cheek and then almost wanting to pull it away again because it is literally _burning_. Zayn sort of growls at Louis, but Louis really can’t care less, knowing that Zayn brought this upon himself. The blue eyed boy gives Zayn a stern look and is almost about to say something, but then Zayn releases his grip and steps back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and reaching for his pack of smokes in the back pocket of his jeans.

Liam goes weak in Louis’ arms like he’s about to break in two and Louis leads him out, but then Liam lifts his head and throws something at Zayn, “Take your fucking pills and do whatever the fuck you want with them.” Liam spits and turns his gaze away, letting Louis lead him out so quickly that Zayn doesn’t have enough time to compose a reply.

Louis keeps an arm around Liam’s waist, holding him close as he takes him outside into the still, fresh summer air. He grabs a blanket on a lawn chair and keeps walking, not commenting on the way Liam sniffles and half-sobs the whole way.

Louis spreads the blanket out on the grass and motions for Liam to sit down. He’s still shaking a bit, Louis notices, so he crawls into his lap and wounds his arms around his bigger figure, running his hand in a soothing rhythm across his back.

“It will be okay,” He whispers, “You’ll be okay again.”

Liam nods, salty water brimming over, “He’s just such an idiot. I hate him, Lou.”

“I hate him too, babe, we all do.” He murmurs and rocks the other boy a bit until his breathing has evened out. “So tell me what happened?”

“He, uhm, he asked me to get his razor in his bag and, I – I’d never like check up on him and look through his bag, because I _trust_ him, but then there was a small p-plastic bag in the same pocket and I just lost it, Lou – he promised me he’d never do it again a-and he _lied_ to me.”

“He hasn’t taken anything while we’ve been up here, though, right?”

Liam shakes his head with his gaze cast down.

“So what’s the problem?”

“He brought an entire bag of some shit _with_ him? He was obviously planning on taking them at some point otherwise he’d have gotten rid of it by now.”

“Look, Liam, Zayn needs you. It’s not enough just giving him an ultimatum; you have to help him through this.”

“I’m trying, Lou, but you know how he is. Sometimes I have to force the words out of him, especially with things like this.”

“Not always.” Louis says slowly, forcing the other boy to meet his meaningful look.

“What do you mean?”                           

“ _Everything_ he writes is always painfully honest. You read the songs he wrote when all that stuff went on with him and his parents? Those songs almost made _me_ tear up. And after he’d written them he got better and less depressed and he started letting himself love other people again – that’s where you came in,” Louis pauses, “Make him write about it so he can get it all out of his system. Make him think about things. I’m sure it will result in some kind of progress, it’s worth a shot nonetheless.”

Liam’s gaze shoots to the ground again as he sinks a lump and quietly says, “You’re right.”

“Liam,” Louis says, eyes impossibly blue and earnest, “Look at me.”

The younger boy is frowning, a deep line set between his brows, but he finally looks up to meet the eyes of the other boy.

“You need to promise me you will fight this one last time because, like, you and Zayn…” Louis bites his lip briefly, being at loss for words for just a second, “If you and Zayn don’t work out, then there’s no chance for the rest of us either.”

Liam nods and smiles weakly at his best friend. Louis just closes his eyes, breathes out heavily and Liam realises that the tables have turned. Because suddenly it’s not Louis holding Liam anymore – it’s Liam holding Louis.

<> 

The next day Louis doesn’t wake up from shouting but from unbearable heat. Harry has his head and mess of curls laying on Louis’ outstretched arm so it’s not even Harry’s body heat that is at fault. No, it is just incredibly _hot_. The blue eyed boy gets his arm away and quickly gets up, trying to breathe and separate the air from the humidity.

He takes a cold shower that feels electric when the chilled water hits his overheated, glistening skin. He throws on bleached shorts, rolling up the ends of them and sweeps his fringe to the side, briefly enjoying the tan that has appeared on his now golden skin.

The house is quiet and, out of worry, he checks the rooms, looking for his boys. He finds Liam and Zayn sleeping in separate rooms but he doesn’t put too much thought into that because he firmly believes that they will be okay again, that they will always be okay again. Neither Niall nor Josh are in the house though so he goes outside, feeling like he’s setting his life at risk by walking out into the unrelenting heat and angry sun on the sky, shooting its burning beams at everything it possibly can.

The first thing he sees when he steps outside is Niall’s figure. The wood of the patio hurts the soles of his feet, so he moves quickly and realises– _is that a bon fire?_

Niall is actually tossing wood on a bon fire as if the air isn’t hot enough, as if everything isn’t _burning_ already.

“Niall?” He calls, as he’s gotten closer, his skin already prickling with the extra heat the fire radiates.

“Hey, mate!” He calls back, a weird broad smile creeping onto his lips, “Funny innit?”

“What?”

And then Niall starts laughing but it sounds so wrong like it’s painful for him. Louis notices that Niall is actually _clothed_ ; black jeans and a t-shirt that is completely drenched with sweat. He looks young.

“It’s funny how all those stupid clichés actually end up being right,” He says, still laughing, blue eyes shining with intense emotions, “How you don’t know what you have until you lose it. Karma and shit.”

Louis blinks, confused, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you of all people must know what it’s like to lose someone,” Niall grimaces and it almost sounds mocking and for a second Louis almost suspects this to be Zayn in disguise because this isn’t _Niall_.

“… Are you alright?”

And then Niall stops what he’s doing and just stares at Louis so apathetically that he doesn’t know where to put himself. So they don’t say anything to each other for several minutes, they just let the bonfire talk in its hateful manner.

Eventually Niall drops the piece of wood he’s clenching in his hand and watches it fall, keeping his eyes on the ground afterwards.

“Nialler...” Louis coos and steps closer, gaining courage, “Let’s go inside, okay?”

The blonde boy makes a noise, almost like a whimper, and only now Louis notices how red his skin is. He must have been out here in the sun for several hours, letting the fire sink into his skin; reddening, bruising and hurting him.  Louis keeps his steady gaze focused on the other boy, trying to channel all his reassurance and strength into it. Seconds later it’s like something changes and Niall looks up again, eyes returning to their natural sky blue colour and his hands drop helplessly as he starts walking in the direction of the house. He brushes past Louis and Louis can literally feel how hot he is and see the sweat running down his neck.

So he follows him because he knows of darkness – knows that sometimes it can swallow up your entire being, and knows that when it happens, all you really need is the presence of someone there who loves you.

They don’t say anything – but Niall is panting, his breath hitching for oxygen – as Louis guides the blonde boy into the shower and helps him peel off his sweat drenched clothes. He turns the shower on, adjusting the temperature so it will help cool down his body.

“You had any breakfast today?”

“No.” Niall half-whispers, voice rough with emotions.

“I’ll go make some, come out when you’re done, okay?”

The blonde boy nods, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and catching it with his teeth.

Louis nods back and closes the door behind him, heading for the kitchen immediately. He’s never exactly been the greatest cook – that was always Harry’s thing – but he knows how to prepare eggs and roast some bacon. He puts some bread in the toast as well while he stirs the eggs and bacon in the pan around frantically, his mind racing with worry for his best friend because this is new. _This is new_. Niall has never freaked out like this before, not when his dog died, not when his parents got divorced and, as far as Louis knows, not even when Louis disappeared without much explanation.

But he guesses everyone can get _enough_ , that everyone can just be done with everything for a while and end up in a situation where they just _break down_. Maybe Niall has gotten enough, maybe things just got too _overwhelming_.

Niall walks out in shorts and a white tank that contrasts heavily against his sun ravished skin. His hair is soft and fluffy and he has his arms in front of him, wearing a facial expression that is withdrawn most of all. He looks small, reminds Louis of a child, reminds Louis of Harry in his post drunk state when he needs touches and loving praises engraved into his skin so very desperately.

Louis sets a plate of food in front of the other boy and waits for him to take a forkful before sitting down himself.

“You gonna tell me what’s up with you?”

“Yes – yeah.”

Louis waits patiently, watches Niall eat and gain some strength and when he starts talking he looks much better but still shaken to the core like he has no idea what to do with himself.

“Last night, uh, Josh and I had a fight, I think? He was upset with me because I never understand him, he said. But I still have no idea what he’s talking about; he was so vague, Lou, and you know how sometimes I need shit cut out in cardboard in order to understand. So yeah, he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as me, which we’ve done while we’ve been here,” Niall says, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, “I was restless and then I got up to go check on him or maybe apologise for whatever he wanted me to, but then he wasn’t there and I panicked. I searched the house and nearest parts of the woods around here, then I went back and only then I realised that his stuff was gone too. I called him at least sixteen times but it just goes straight to voicemail. I’ve been up all night.”

Louis stares at the other boy, unsure of what to say.

“Please say something… it’s my fault, isn’t it? I fucked up,” Niall half-whispers, tugging on his blonde hair in frustration.

“Maybe.”

Niall’s face crumbles and he lets out quiet groan.

“Hey, look,” Louis begins, putting his hand on the other boy’s sunburned arm, “I don’t know Josh that well and I know nothing about what he could’ve been upset about, but I have no doubt in my mind that you will get to talk to him and explain yourself, yeah? He probably just needs some time to collect his thoughts. I know that feeling and I know that he will come around eventually.”

Niall looks up at his best friend with eyes that resembles two swimming pools brimming over. “You think so?”

“Yeah, and you know how I’m basically always right.” He winks.

The blonde boy nods and stuffs his mouth with toast. “I’ve been thinking all night and all morning, and, like, may be it just all got to his head? May be I shouldn’t have dragged him up here with us, I mean, we’re a right mess? I heard Zayn and Liam shouting at each other yesterday, and like you and Harry have been taking turns crying ever since we got here, and then all things between you two and then Harry and Michael having all their shit going on before we left because of you. He must have been confused or felt like he didn’t fit – just something. And maybe I did something too, may be it just all became too much.”

“Wait –“ Louis says, “Who’s Michael?”

“Michael? Oh, he’s this guy Harry used to – wait, fucking shit. You don’t know?”

Louis doesn’t say anything, it’s not because he can’t, he just knows he won’t be able to control his tone of voice or use actual proper words. His blood feels like it’s boiling but he’s cold too and it’s not because he’s angry – he’s not _fucking angry_ – he’s confused most of all but then a little scared too.

“I’m sorry, Lou, I thought – I thought Harry would have told you by now. Fuck, I’m sorry if I screwed anything up, god, I have such a big mouth sometimes, it’s probably something I said Josh is upset about, wouldn’t be goddamn surprised –“

“Niall, can you just shut up for a second?”

The boy nods, ducking his head and finishing his breakfast as Louis stares out the window with cold fingertips despite the suffocating heat.

“Tell me who Michael is.”

“Mate, I dunno, Harry might wanna tell you that himself, you know how he –“

“Fucking _tell_ me, Niall.”

The blonde boy sinks a lump, knowing he can’t ignore the sternness and finality of Louis’ voice. He exhales deeply and says with a timid voice, “About six months after you left, Josh introduced Harry to his friend, Michael, and they started fooling around, like _dating_ , and I think they were about to get a bit more serious after a few months but then you came home and Harry broke it off. Michael didn’t exactly take it lightly, so there was quite a lot of drama during the first week you were home.”

“Yeah, my parents _died_ , Niall. Doesn’t get more dramatic than that.” He’s saying it through his teeth and his jaw hurts but so does his heart and his brain because how could Harry _lie_ to him like that? Well, not exactly lie, but then avoid telling him about this? What is he trying to hide? The fact that someone else was able to win his heart in a matter of months when Louis has spent several years trying to do that? And actually, now that he’s thinking about it, he’s not even sure he has won Harry’s heart or if he ever actually will.

“I’m sorry.” Niall mutters, hands folded weakly in front of him. Louis is not used to seeing Niall sad and it has to be one of the most upsetting things he has ever witnessed.

“’S okay,” Louis sighs, “You need sleep.”

Niall nods and gets out of his chair, lets Louis follow him to his bedroom and tucks the white sheet around him. The blonde boy is sniffling, warm tears running down his reddened cheeks. Louis brushes his hair from his forehead and rubs his thumb over his cheeks for a bit until Niall falls asleep. It doesn’t take long.

<> 

Louis doesn’t think about Michael. He boxes him up and ignores him because he doesn’t want to deal with it. Not right now at least. He knows that he has to eventually.

When Niall wakes up around dinner time he looks so lost that Louis just wants to wrap him up in everything that is good. He catches Niall sitting on the porch with a phone to his ear that drops every ten seconds and most likely with mosquitoes eagerly sucking his blood for survival.

Days pass like that – Niall sleeps away the abnormally hot days, gets up for dinner and calls Josh’s voicemail for a few hours on the porch before going back to sleep again. Zayn and Liam are avoiding each other and Louis doesn’t think he has ever seen so much emotion in Zayn’s eyes ever before. They are combusting with anger, frustration, loneliness, confusion, longing and so much more that Louis doesn’t even bother to look into. And then there’s him and Harry who share pained kisses and forced smiles on Louis’ behalf but Harry is living in happy obliviousness. Louis is holding off till the other boys get their problems in control before throwing another bomb that will blow everything up and tear it into burning little pieces.

<> 

It feels like it’s Thursday but Louis is pretty sure it’s Tuesday when Niall finally gets trough to Josh. He’s watching through the big windows in the living room as the blonde boy sits on an old lawn chair on the porch, sacrificing his skin to the mosquitoes once again. Louis can see his mouth move and his left hand finally unclenching. This is progress.

Niall sits out there talking for about an hour before he returns inside, puzzled expression on his face. He smiles a bit and says goodnight, returning to his room again. Louis will have to talk to him tomorrow, may be even wake him up if he has to.

Louis is cuddled up at Liam’s side on the couch and they’re watching the news from back home. It’s a bit odd, almost like a slap in the face to remind you that there’s still a world out there. A reality. It’s easy forget up here where nature is the only thing to disturb the peace and silence.

Zayn and Harry are even more lost than them right now though because they are sitting at the dining table with a notebook and pen in front of them and Harry with a guitar in his hands. They’re writing songs together again and even Liam smiles fondly in their direction because they haven’t done that in _ages_. They used to often get in fights when they wrote songs together because of their completely different perceptions of the world; but now they’re writing together again, so they must agree on _something_.

It’s a nice background noise though and Louis closes his eyes a few times, concentrating on their soft murmurs and the sudden accords from Harry’s guitar followed by a hum of low, scratchy voices that harmonizes with the tones so perfectly.

He lies awake when he’s tucked under Harry’s arm in their bed later that same night, the whole house so soothingly quiet that Louis almost smiles. But he’s curious and he’s been watching Harry’s notebook patiently that’s lying on the desk across the room. It’s black, torn at the edges and suddenly incredibly inviting because in it is the song him and Zayn wrote today and Louis is dying to read the lyrics.

He tries to count the stars he can see flickering through the window but he doesn’t fall asleep and he realises he _has_ to read the song. Harry frowns and clutches a pillow to his chest when Louis detangles himself. He turns on the little desk lamp and his hands are shaking a bit as he opens the treasured notebook, avoiding to read the words on the first pages until he gets to the last page. He sits down on the chair, trying to focus on the messy words.

_“And I told you to be patient_   
_And I told you to be fine_   
_And I told you to be balanced_   
_And I told you to be kind_

_And now all your love is wasted_   
_And who the hell was I?_   
_I’m breaking at the bridges_   
_And at the end of all your lines_

_Who will love you?_   
_Who will fight?_   
_Who will fall behind?”_

He drops the book and tries to catch his breath because this is not what he expected but he’s not sure what it all means anyway, so he tries not to panic, tries not think that this is about him and Liam, tries not to think that Harry and Zayn may doubt their love. It can’t be that.

 <>

Days blur together up here but some time later – Friday, may be – Louis finds himself in the office again. He’s avoiding getting too close to the piano and he hasn’t touched the note he found ever since that early morning. He just dug it to the bottom of his bag along with his phone. No, he’s not nearing the piano today; instead he’s looking at all the shelves with books sitting in them. It’s all carefully organized in alphabetical order with three different encyclopedias from three different times. He’s looking at old pictures of rain forests when Niall burst through the door, breathing heavily.

“Louis, I need you to drive me to the airport. Or like, someone else, I don’t care, I need to go.”

“What?”

“I need to go _home_ – Josh, like, I need to see him!”

He looks at Niall like a question but Niall looks like he already decided this and nothing will change his mind. Josh, apparently, called a taxi in the middle of the night to drive him to the airport so he could take a flight home and the explanation Niall gave the other boys was that “he needed space”, which made sense in some way, so he’s home now among people and another kind of chaos again.

“Okay, uhm, yeah, I’ll drive you.”

“Thank you!” Niall breathes relieved and rushes to Louis to envelop him in a bone crushing hug.

“Like now?”

“Yeah, now!”

“’Kay, let me go get my keys.”

Niall releases him and smiles at him, like really _smiles_ and yeah, Louis will definitely drive him to the airport.

They end up taking Liam with them too because he doesn’t want to be stuck at home with Zayn because of obvious reasons and then Harry who mostly looks like he’s in another world.

Niall is sitting at the edge of his seat, impatiently changing radio stations like it’s a game to find as many as possible. They reach the city after a few hours and Niall is fucking _trembling_ with excitement or may be nervousness. Louis can’t be sure.

“Call us when you get there, yeah?” Liam says, with a firm hand on the blonde boy’s shoulder.

“ I will.”

“Have a safe flight.” Louis murmurs and pulls both him and Liam into a hug and burying his nose into Niall’s neck. He always wears good cologne – Prada or something.

They drive home in relative silence but it’s not because they don’t have anything to talk about, they just don’t _want_ to. Louis is still not a coward though.

The sky has become dark by the time they turn down the drive way to the house. There’s something scary about tonight, about the way the shadows of the trees are so long, about the way the air is still so heavy and warm like something unfortunate can happen every second.

“You talked to him about the song writing?”

“No.” Liam answers quietly.

“But you saw that him and Harry wri—“

“I saw, yeah,” he says, “I haven’t talked to him at all though.”

Louis nods and cuts the engine off but neither of them makes an attempt to get out. “Niall told me about Michael.”

“Thought you and Harry already talked about that.”

“He never mentioned him.”

“Oh.”

Liam is not in the right place right now to be able to listen to Louis and his never ending problems, which is okay, because he has stuff to deal with himself. So he doesn’t push it any further and Liam just stares out in the darkening horizon with a narrowed gaze.

Louis smells it immediately when they get out of the car. He recognises the scent anywhere because it’s special with a combined scent of herbs and strong tea and just pure _earth_. Liam doesn’t notice though because he doesn’t have a nose for that – he always avoids places where people tend to smoke weed. Louis almost doesn’t want to go in now. He knows that Liam will throw a fit at Zayn for being high and cause a scene and he definitely doesn’t need that right now in his fussy mind.

Zayn and Harry are dozing off on the couch in the living room with glazed eyes and easy smiles. Harry looks beautiful, Louis thinks.

“Hey, we’re back,” Liam announces aiming straight for the refrigerator, still oblivious, “What do you guys want for dinner?”

“Cheese. And like, more _cheese_.” Harry’s voice is so slow that Liam _has_ to notice now.

He squints his eyes and his gaze darts between Harry and Zayn, and Louis can almost see the pieces in Liam’s mind falling into place, and he can almost see the way his easy cheerful mood turns into fiery anger, and he can _definitely see_ how scared Zayn suddenly looks.

“I – uhm, Harry, he –“

“Fuck you.” Liam spits and storms down the hallway, slamming the door to his room.

Zayn’s eyes fill up with water which is so very rare but now it’s happened twice within a week and Louis realises he doesn’t like it one bit. This is not Zayn. Zayn is strong and stubborn and smart but like this he’s like a little child pleading for comfort and affection and that’s not _right_.

“Don’t.” Louis says, quietly but firmly, when Zayn makes a move to follow Liam.

Harry is staring wide eyed at the blue eyed boy like he holds the answer to everything.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Me too.” Harry mumbles.

So they do, leaving Zayn to sit in the living room with his possibly depressive thoughts and the leftovers of a joint. It will be gone tomorrow. Louis lets Harry curl around him, clutching tightly at his chest like he’s afraid Louis will disappear any second. Harry always gets extra touchy, almost a bit manic, when he’s high.

“Are they gonna be okay?”

“I think so.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, babe, just go to sleep,” Louis whispers, winding his fingers through the other boy’s curls.

“Night, Lou.”

“Goodnight, Haz.”

They doze off and Louis closes his eyes and lets himself feel good because that’s how he feels with Harry – _good_. He doesn’t ever want to leave him again and sometimes he wonders how the fuck he ever even managed to do that back then. But times were different back then, feelings were harder to deal with, somehow.

“I love you so much.” Harry whispers suddenly and he must think Louis is already asleep, although he isn’t. Louis doesn’t say anything, just squeezes him tighter and attaches his lips to Harry’s arm. He forgets about Michael then because Harry _loves_ Louis without a doubt, so he falls asleep there, enjoying that he’s wrapped up in this wonderful boy whose _his_ – at least for tonight.


	5. Naked and true

The temperature decreases a bit with the passing days but it’s still extremely dry outside, so much that Zayn has poured some water into a bowl for his cigarette butts, scared that he will set the entire forest on fire if he throws it onto the withered grass.

Louis waits for Niall to call him and tell him that everything’s good, that he and Josh are fine, that he might come back here, and Louis really hopes that he will because the blonde boy’s infectious mood is _missing_. The minutes that pass by without him here are almost painful, and sometimes Louis just takes long walks alone, watching the nature around him wither away with the sun.

Zayn is barely present, doesn’t say much and sometimes he stares out the window in the living room for hours on end. The only one he talks to occasionally is Harry and those conversations don’t even make sense. Louis and Harry don’t really talk much either but they fall asleep tangled up together every night and they share many kisses during the day.

Liam spends most of his time moping around and scowling at Zayn when the boy doesn’t notice. It’s frustrating to watch but Louis has already interfered enough, he decides. They have to figure this out themselves.

He’s just gotten out of the shower when he decides to dig out the paper about “Emma” in his bag. It’s very crumpled and he spends a few minutes just straightening it out, almost caressing it, which is a sharp contrast to how angrily he crushed it the last time he held it. He stares at it, turns it and flips it as if scrutinizing will reveal its secrets. And then he notices that the paper has three clean cut sides and one side that is slightly ripped like it has been torn off.

Right. There’s more.

Louis chases down the hallway, ignoring the sound of Harry and Zayn’s voices singing high notes in the living room, and burst into the office. His eyes can’t focus on anything as he frantically tears books down from the shelves in search of the other half of the paper. He lifts the white sheet that’s covering the piano and tosses it away, looking carefully at the keys to see if they hide another piece of paper. They don’t, so he keeps looking; opening drawers and moving bookcases in order to look for secret doors or whatever. He breaks a lamp accidently as he frantically pushes away everything that could cover the other half of the paper.

It’s important and he needs to find it, he tells himself, and when he finds it, it will all make sense again. It will all be okay.

He searches for what adds up to be an hour and something inside him _clicks_ in desperation because _why_ can’t he find the fucking piece of paper? He begins to get angry and he can feel his skin heating up with it as he pushes over a book case so it makes a loud _thump_. He realises he shouldn’t have done that because now he’s not alone anymore. The loud noise makes the other boys rush to the office to see if Louis is okay, which he is of course, somehow.

“Louis?” Harry calls, alarmed, before Louis can even see him at the door.

“I’m fine,” He replies, “I just, uh…”

“God, what have you been doing?” Liam gasps, standing just outside the door now.

“Nothing, I was just looking for something.”

He can feel Harry trying to catch his eyes but he refuses to look at them. He can feel Zayn stand there too, nervously shifting from foot to foot and still saying nothing.

“Did you find it, then?” Harry asks.

“Not yet.”

“Do you need any help?” Liam says.

“No, thanks.”

Liam nods and makes a move to leave while Harry just stands there, watching Louis pace around, flipping through books and stacks of paper.

“I’d like to be alone.” Louis says through his teeth because Harry and Zayn are still just standing there, invading his privacy, and it’s getting on his nerves.

Neither of the two say anything but simply turn around, closing the door behind them to go God knows where.  Louis doesn’t care.

It’s late when he returns to his room and he still hasn’t found the other half. It bothers him more than he’s willing to admit. He shreds his clothes to the floor and brushes his teeth, while avoiding his own reflection, afraid of the emotions he will find there.  

Harry is already in bed, laying on the sheets and completely spread out in only his boxers. Louis tries but fails at counting his tattoos. The boy is staring back at Louis with intensity as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Hey,” Louis mutters, blushing a bit as Harry’s eyes continue to rake over his body.

“Hey yourself,”

“’M tired,”

“C’mere, baby,” Harry smiles, reaching for the other boy. Louis takes another minute to admire the view of Harry spread out half-naked on the bed before lying down and cuddling into his arms.

“Did you talk to Niall yet?”

“Not yet, no. He will call me when he has something to tell.” Louis says, confidently.

“Alright,” Harry mumbles and runs his fingers through Louis’ fringe before running it down his cheek, lightly touching his eyelids, and letting his thumb trace the curve of Louis’ lips, “Sometimes I can’t, like – can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

The older boy smiles with closed eyes and says, “Are you still high?”

“I’m serious, Lou.”

“Me too.”

“You’re incredibly bad at accepting compliments,” Harry chuckles.

“You’re one to talk?” The other boy replies, voice raising a few octaves.

“Fine,” Harry says, “May be you and I need to work on that.”

“May be.”

He feels Harry nuzzling into his neck and wrapping his hand around the side of Louis’ neck with a frustrating gentleness. They kiss for a long time, hands and legs intertwining, and Louis tries not to think about how not long ago it was someone else Harry lay in bed with calling beautiful.

<> 

The day Niall calls it finally begins to rain.

“Louis?”

“Nialler, hey! Are you okay? How did it go?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It went, uhm, good. We made up.”

“That’s really great! Tell me what happened?”

“We, erm, well, it turned out he’s in love with me and I was an idiot for not realising it, basically. We talked about it and I’m pretty sure I like him back like that too… so for now we’re just testing things out. You don’t expect me to relay our arguments, do ya?”

“No, no, not now, but later! That’s fantastic though, I’m really happy for you, mate.”

“Thanks, Lou.”

“So are you coming back up here? I miss you.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lou,”

“What? Why not?” Louis says, voice raising an octave or two and goose bumps rising on his skin.

“Are Zayn and Liam still, uh, whatever they are?”

“Yeah, they’re still – yeah…”

“Look, you guys have things to work out and I think that house is a good place for you to do it. You don’t need me there and, to be honest, I need to be here in London so I can fix things properly between me and Josh. I can’t just leave him now.”

“Niall, please…”

“You need to talk to Harry. And Zayn and Liam need to talk. You all need to get yourselves together and talk about things that matter. I’m nothing but a distraction to you and it might be nice, but it’s only prolonging your ridiculous problems, okay?”

Louis kind of zones out and watches with fascination as the first drops of water hits the windows. He smiles a little to himself because it’s about time – he was beginning to contemplate watering the grass around the house himself.

“Okay.”

“You promise you will talk to each other soon?” Niall asks, and his voice is firmer now, less unsure.

“Yeah, uhm, yeah, I promise.”

“Call me if there’s anything, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

“And tell Liam I’m fine and stuff, yeah?” Niall says, “Bye, Louis.”

“Bye, Niall.” He mutters, locking his phone and tossing it on the desk. He pulls a chair in front of the window, sits down and just stares as the water runs down the windows and soaks up in the dry grass. He wonders if everything will be greener tomorrow or if it’s too late already.

<> 

The grass is not green the next day but it has improved and walking on it almost feels like walking in a swamp of sorts. He hasn’t looked for the paper ever since that day that he messed up the beautifully organized office. It’s gone now.

It’s a bit early and Zayn is still sleeping while Liam and Harry are quietly shuffling around in the kitchen, co-working to make some breakfast.

“What should we do today?” Harry says and his green eyes are full of excitement today, gleaming and shining with life.

“Dunno, Haz, what do you feel like?” Louis replies gently from the chair he’s seated at by the dining table.

“Something fun!”

“It’s raining,” Liam points out.

Harry ignores that and jumps onto a new subject when he says, “Is Niall coming back?”

“No, he’s staying with Josh.” Louis says.

“Ugh,” Harry grumbles, “He was always up for some fun.”

“I’m up for fun things.”

“Yeah?” Harry says, voice deeper and with his gaze narrowing.

“Of course.” Louis almost grins.

Liam sighs as he watches Harry lean over the table to press his plump lips against Louis’. The older boy smiles when he pulls away, feeling bass pound in his ears and electricity run in his hands. Harry resumes to stirring something in a bowl with pinged cheeks and a nervous smile settled on his lips. Then a phone goes off and the mechanic melody sounds so strange in Louis’ ears like something from another world, like another world is forcing them away.

It’s Harry’s phone, he realises, as Harry reaches for it in his pocket and his forehead creases when he looks at the display. He presses answer and storms out of the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind him promptly. Louis gapes after him and Liam just hums to himself in wonder and continues stirring in a pan.

He begins to fiddle with his t-shirt and rub his temples with his thumbs because Harry isn’t like that. Harry is always slow, discreet and so very calm that it sometimes drives Louis insane with impatience. Harry doesn’t storm anywhere, doesn’t close doors soundly and definitely doesn’t talk in angry, urgent words that can be heard all the way in the kitchen.

Louis is biting his lip now and it hurts. It hurts refraining from asking Liam who he could be talking to because he should already _know_ this. He would have known if he didn’t leave the country to chase away his future. He hates that Liam knows Harry better than him now – or at least it feels that way.

His hands are itching and his eyes begin to feel sore. He clenches his jaw and tries to get rid of the mean, dishonest and ennoble part of himself that wants to go to the door, may be eavesdrop or force the phone out of Harry’s hand to check the caller ID himself.

He feels heavy as he accepts defeat and finds himself walking briskly down the hallway to their shared bedroom. He closes his eyes for brief moment as he’s faced with the old wooden door before opening it and taking in the scene of Harry sitting at the edge of the bed, head hung low and with the phone awkwardly pressed to his ear.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” Harry hisses, “Fuck, Michael, I –“

And Louis freezes completely, realising he’s the biggest idiot on the _entire goddamn planet_.

“Louis?” Harry says, surprised, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At the mention of Louis’ name the person in the phone – _Michael_ – starts shouting profanities angrily; accusations and threats and love declarations.

Louis says nothing.

“I have to go.” The other boy says darkly, locking his phone and dropping his hands to rest on his knees and stare up at Louis with wide eyes and lips turned downwards.

“Sorry, I just – uh, wanted to let you know that Li-Liam and I are… going into town… to pick up a movie? Yeah, it’s raining. Outside. Raining.” He half-heartedly gestures in the direction of the nearest window, feeling so embarrassingly stupid and knowing that his case is completely lost.

Harry narrows his eyes and scrutinizes the other boy with confusion or may be pity. Pity would be worse. He doesn’t say anything; just keeps staring, so Louis doesn’t either.

Eventually it gets too much and Louis is out the door and down the hall quicker than a lightening. He drags Liam by his collar and ignores the boy’s protests but Liam stops quickly too, probably _really_ noticing the pained expression on his friend’s face.

“Where are we going?” He whispers when they’re seated in Harry’s car.

“We’re just picking up some stuff in town.”

“Okay,” Liam nods slowly, “You wanna talk about it?”

Louis sighs and grips the steering wheel tightly as he revs the engine and drives fast down the gravelly road.

“I think we should talk about it.” Liam says more sternly.

“No, it’s fine, mate. It’s nothing.”

“But I can tell you’re upset.”

“My parents are dead, Liam,” Louis says matter-of-factly. His lips feel numb and he surprises himself by being able to say that without a twitch of an eye.

“Yeah, but this isn’t about your parents,”

“Then _what is it about_?”

“You and Harry being completely incompetent,” The brown eyed boy says, “Ever since you two met each other there’s been nothing but misunderstandings passed on between you and, frankly, I’m tired of watching you two idiots _being idiotic_.”

“I’m _not_ an idiot.”

“Then why didn’t you just _ask_ Harry who the hell he was talking to and who Michael is and get everything completely sorted out so both of you can finally begin to feel a little _happy_?” Liam talks exasperatedly with wild hand gestures, “And for God’s sake, _slow down_!”

“Why don’t you talk to Zayn?” Louis retorts, ignoring his friend’s remark on his driving.

“This isn’t about Zayn and I.”

“Harry doesn’t like talking.” Louis states and it sounds so very hopeless that he can see Liam’s annoyance – anger, whatever – fade rapidly.

“I know,” The other boy says, “Zayn doesn’t like talking either and sometimes they need their space, but, Louis… you’ve given Harry so much space already; there’s nothing but spaces around you! You need to, like, _do something_ progressive because Harry won’t, you know he won’t.”

“Why won’t he though? Why does it have to be _me_? I told him how I felt back then – I’d say I made the first fucking move. God, this is so stupid.”

“Harry is… difficult.” Liam finishes, lamely.

Louis doesn’t say anything and the words ring uncomfortably in the air. The whiskers are moving quickly and trying to remove the curtains of rain that elegantly drapes over the front window. Every rain drop falls alone, Louis thinks, and when it hits a surface, it becomes a part of something much bigger; it soaks up into earth and nourishes or falls into the sea to swim along with millions of other rain drops. Rain is kind of a beautiful concept.

“You have to go back and turn right.”

“What?” Louis says, then realises he kind of drifted off and took a wrong turn. He maneuvers the car in a U-turn and goes back the right way.

They’re quiet for at least ten minutes until they get to the town and begin discussing what movie to watch. It takes them a while; Louis wants to watch _American Psycho_ but Liam protests and say it’s too dark, instead suggesting some new comedy movie that Louis could never dream of watching if he had to pick himself.

They don’t say much on the way home, but when they turn down the gravel road that leaves to the house, Liam quietly says, “If you talk to Harry – _properly_ – then I’ll talk to Zayn.”

Louis mulls it over and lets out a defeated sigh once he cuts the engine. “Fine.”

A small smile grows on the other boy’s lips.

They run for the door in an attempt to not become too wet and relatively succeed. They can hear Zayn and Harry are laughing as they get in. Louis’ curiosity wells up in him as he tip-toes into the kitchen and watches fondly as they bicker and laugh and clean up the kitchen in cooperation. Zayn’s genuine laugh is sort of girlie and slightly awkward while Harry’s is loud and a bit squeaky at the edges. The sounds are unfamiliar to Louis now but he wants them back; he wants to hear them every day now because it might be one of his favourite things in the entire world.

“Oh, hey, Lou,” Harry almost fucking _giggles_.

“Um, hey,”

“We bought a movie we could watch.” Liam joins in, eyes flickering warily between the two boys.

Zayn’s smile fades but at least he’s not brooding with passive anger as usual.

They put the movie on and Louis feels uneasy with Harry pressed to his side as they watch sarcastic police officers failing at catching villains and what not. The two other boys are sitting separated and taking turns at looking at each other with deep sighs. Louis barely makes it through the ninety minutes the movie lasts and once it finished he’s up from the couch quickly and aiming for the covered patio for air. He knows it Zayn who’s slipping out silently to stand beside Louis and ponder over the way the sky darkens and envelops every part of nature into silent blackness.

Louis accepts the cigarette Zayn is offering and it feels soft between his lips. The smoke is sharp with toxic substances but he doesn’t give a flying fuck, so he lets it settle in his lungs and barely exhales, just revels in the poison because it makes him feel _alive_.

They smoke together in silence but both turn around to look through the windows at Harry and Liam when they can hear melodies come from behind them. Liam is drumming away on a box of sorts while Harry is roughly playing chords on his guitar and singing with his eyes closed and a crease between his eyebrows. Louis does a double intake of breath and turns back around, inhaling intensely through the filter of the cigarette until it starts to burn the tips of his fingers.

He reaches his hand out for another cigarette once he’s stubbed the first one on the ground with the soles of his shoes when he notices Zayn is just finishing up rolling a joint. He keeps his hand in position and doesn’t meet Zayn’s gaze when he accepts the conical joint.

He lights it up and blows on it to get an even glow, letting it burn for a few seconds before taking a brief drag so his throat can slowly get more used to the heavier smoke. It burns a bit more than with cigarettes but the taste is much more pleasant.

Not asking Zayn how much clean weed he put in this, he just smokes till he’s decided that he’s had enough and till he starts to feel a little hazy. He might have done too much, Louis thinks idly, because he’s never been good at judging the intensity of a joint and he’s suddenly too proud to ask Zayn. 0.8 gram, may be? Who cares. He’s already flying high.

So he lays down on the grown, feels the roughness of the stone tiles against his golden, spotless skin.

“Are you okay, Lou?” Zayn asks. His voice is soft.

“No.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Louis smiles slightly at that, closes his eyes, and he’s not sure if it’s because Zayn is finally admitting to something or it’s the amount of herbs he just consumed.

“We’ll be fine, y’know,”

Louis just snorts.

“Louis – I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to _me_.”

Zayn knows what Louis is talking about because he shouldn’t be apologising to Louis but to the brown eyed boy whose inside with Harry, playing music and pouring his wounded heart out.

“Yeah, especially you, ‘cause I’ve – like, I’ve been a dick.”

“You’re always a dick though,” Louis points out.

“Are you going to listen to what I’m saying or just keep being a dick yourself?”

Louis exhales quietly and waits for the other boy to continue.

“Okay, so… I should have minded my own business a bit more regarding you and Harry. Should’ve– ”he pauses, takes a drag from the joint and scrunches his eyebrows – “ –should’ve taken care of Liam, loved him better but I… I just have a twisted way of showing love and I’m fully aware of that but I just can’t do it differently, I’m sorry for that, Lou, please, I’m fucking sorry…”

“I know, Zayn, why else do you think I put up with your shit?”

The dark haired boy closes his eyes and nods to himself with regret and hurt etched into his bones. “Will you forgive me?” He asks after a while, stubbing the joint against the ground and flicking into the bowl of water he had made his ashtray when everything had been so _dry_.

“Yeah.”

“Will Liam?”

“Most likely, yeah.”

Zayn lets out a deep sigh of relief as if he’d actually believed that Liam was done with him and that Louis was considering it. He doesn’t calm down after smoking the joint though, because he lights up a new  cigarette and then another and by then Louis decides he’s cold and that he misses the way Harry smiles when he looks at him.

The thing is that when Louis gets high he also gets _horny_. It’s not helping that Harry is lying on the couch with legs that are so long it makes Louis dizzy, with his guitar settled in his large hands all the while he bites his bottom lip between each break in the song he’s playing.

“Fuck,” The older boy mutters under his breath as he makes his way to the opposite couch, trying to contain himself.

He tips his foot back and forth as he impatiently waits for the song to finish so he can finally have the opportunity to _ravish_ Harry. It’s the longest fucking song he’s ever heard and Harry’s raspy voice that curls sexily around the vague lyrics isn’t helping _at all_.

When the song ends Louis shoots up from his seat, his fists clenching and unclenching constantly, and a wild yet hazy look in his eyes that is directed right at Harry.

“What–“

“Harry, just, _come_ , I need to – to talk to you.” The words rushes past Louis’ lips so very fast but Harry nods obediently and follows Louis down the hall, tripping over his feet as he tries to catch up with the other boy.

Louis pushes the door closed with a fist and basically slams Harry up against it with pure lust coursing through him.

“HarryHarryHarryHarryHarry,” Louis chants against the other boy’s lips, fingers toying with Harry’s collar and the other with his belt.

“I’m right here, babe,” Harry gasps and kisses Louis with force and this is exactly what Louis needs. They kiss each other roughly, fighting for dominance and with Louis rutting against Harry’s leg. It feels like _hours_ and then it feels like _seconds,_ so they breathe some more and end up on the bed. Harry trails quick kisses along the other boy’s chest and neck once he’s gotten the shirt off him. His skin is so bronze from the sun while Harry’s cheeks are still a tad bit red and Louis has no idea why the fuck that arouses him, but it does, so he yanks Harry up to his mouth again to feel how hot Harry is, to feel him wanting this as much as he does, to pull at the hair at Harry’s neck.

“You have to fuck me,” The older boy gasps, once Harry’s fingers are fiddling with his nipples, sharply tugging and causing a combination of pain and arousal to shoot up Louis’ spine. He’s arching and squirming and touching every part of Harry he can reach – it’s not _enough_ , it’s never enough.

Harry’s mouth goes kind of agape for a bit but then he nods and furrows his brows like he’s concentrating hard. He tugs Louis jeans down quickly, being an expert himself on how to get off tight jeans, and deciding to get rid of the boxers now that he’s at it. He’s even faster at undressing himself and Louis feel so fucking good already because Harry is all naked with sharp lines shadowing his body, and in a second it will be fully pressing against Louis.

Harry’s hand closes around on Louis’ already hard cock, pumps him dryly a bit, as they continue ravishing each other’s mouths. The younger boy disappears then, rummages in his bag, and Louis whimpers when the cold air hits his naked body.

The curly haired boy comes back with lube and a condom in his hand, hands shaking a bit and with lips that are already swollen and red. He hovers over Louis and dips down to kiss his awaiting lips, sliding his fingers around Louis’ hips.

“Spread your legs for me, love,” Harry whispers against the other boy’s cheek, settling between Louis’ legs as he obeys.

Louis feels so weak as Harry slicks up his fingers and trails them down Louis’ thigh, leaving behind wet trails, and eventually prodding at his hole. He breathes sharply as the tip of Harry’s index finger enters, turning it slightly, pushing a bit further and uses his other hand to caress every part of Louis that he can reach.

The muscles in Louis’ thighs tighten as Harry’s finger sinks in knuckle deep and the familiar sensation of being stretched spreads everywhere in the older boy. Harry pushes in deeper until it’s buried all the way inside him and pulls it back a little to thrust in again. Louis fists his hand as Harry increases his pace and keeps his other hand holding onto Louis’ thigh to keep it in place. The younger boy prods with a second finger once the first finger begins to slide in more easily and he realises he needs more lube because Louis is so fucking _tight_ that it makes Harry feel a bit breathless.

He puts more pressure on his fingers and Louis’ hole begins to swallow up two of Harry’s long fingers. Louis shuts his eyes and grits his teeth as Harry goes faster and faster till he presses in a third digit.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Louis moans as Harry finger-fucks him earnestly, concentration set between his eyebrows. Louis tries not to think about how practiced Harry seems at this and how many other guys he’s probably pleasured so profoundly. It makes his stomach churn but he pushes the thought away and focuses on the thickness of Harry’s fingers as they fuck into him.

“You ready?” Harry says, voice rough and breathy.

“Yeah – _yes_ – Harry, fuck – I’m so ready.”

Harry smiles a bit at the mess of a boy he’s created before pulling his fingers out and grabbing the awaiting condom. He rolls it on quickly, finger tips still shaking a bit, and pours more lube onto his cock and giving it a few loose strokes. He gives Louis a brief smile as he aligns his dick with Louis’ stretched hole. He pushes in slowly, hissing at the tightness and resistance despite having taken so much time to properly prepare Louis.

There are no words to describe the way it feels to be this close to the person you love. There’re no coherent words running through Louis’ mind, they’re just letters that sometimes randomly seems to be making out a word, but then not really. Everything looks different like this, especially Harry. Harry looks different. His curls are damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are greener with even more gold speckles than the last time Louis checked which feels like forever ago. Harry looks older too, like the very seconds of loving Louis so intensely has matured him, aged him and made him wiser.

When the younger boy is finally sheathed fully inside Louis he ducks down to kiss him with weakened enthusiasm and it makes Louis feels better because maybe this is just as crazily intense for him as it is for Louis.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathes as he thrusts into the boy properly for the first time. Louis trembles.

Harry goes slowly in the beginning, lets Louis get used to the feeling of being stretched so wide, caresses Louis’ hips and watches Louis’ abs roll with each thrust.

“Ugh, I-I need, please,”

“Tell me, baby?” Harry half-moans to urge the other boy on who’s struggling with coherent sentences.

“Faster, please, _faster_ ,” He gasps.

Harry obeys quickly, rolling his hips with more strength and he can’t help but watch the movement of his cock sinking into Louis because it might be one of the fucking hottest things he’s ever seen. He fucks Louis hard and fast and the boy is on the verge of _sobbing_. He’s driving deeper with each push, earning loud moans and curses to fly from the older boy’s lips as he hits his prostate.

Harry decides he wants Louis to fall apart on him then with his knees on each side of Harry as he grinds down, pleasuring himself. He pulls out making Louis fucking _whine_ , but he rolls them around before Louis has time to ask and attaches their lips again with his hand sneaking along Louis’ abdomen to fist around Louis’ leaking cock.

He is desperately fucking up into Harry’s tight fist but it’s not enough – _it’s never enough_. Harry pushes him down onto his cock again, and Louis holds leverage against the headboard behind the green eyed boy. His knees are settled beside each of Harry’s strong thighs and he rises a bit to sink back down, arching his neck a bit as the incredible sensation of Harry’s cock nudging his prostate hits again. He rides him with eagerness then, curls his toes as he repeatedly let’s Harry’s cock hits the spot. They’re panting heavily and occasionally they almost lock lips, but then they don’t really because they just end up breathing into each other with pearls of sweat running down their temples.

“So good, you’re so good like this. So fucking pretty.”

Harry’s words encourage Louis to go even faster, his thighs aching with the movements. Harry begins to thrust up into him and the sound of skin against is skin is loud now, almost louder than their moans of each other’s names.

“I’m close, baby, unghf,” Harry says, “Just keep going, you feel so fucking good, Lou.”

Harry lasts no more than three more thrust before he’s climaxing harder than ever before. His nails dig into the skin by Louis’ hips and Louis doesn’t stop riding Harry’s cock at any point who’s basically hyperventilating as he does so.

He’s barely come back to reality before he flips Louis over, pulls out, hears Louis fucking _whimper_ , and props the boy’s ass up in the air with a pillow under him. He dives straight in, spreading the older boy’s cheeks and licks timidly around his used hole. Louis just keeps whimpering and it drives Harry _mad_ so he pushes his tongue inside then.

He fucks him with his tongue quickly, pushing him so close to the edge of coming that Louis begins to cry with pleasure. He’s rutting against the pillow he’s propped on as Harry continues to ravish his hole with his wet tongue. When it just becomes too fucking much he reaches a hand down and pumps his cock once, twice, and then comes all over the sheets with loud moans and his hole fluttering around Harry’s tongue.

Louis just lays there, exhausted with closed eyes, as Harry kisses him briefly and gets up to retrieve a wet cloth to clean them up. Time moves so _fast_ sometimes and the next thing Louis knows is that Harry is snuggling up behind him, water drops dripping onto Louis’ shoulder either from a shower or from silent tears. He doesn’t really know.


	6. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Enjoy.

Sometimes people sound like sad songs. Sometimes they don’t. Louis has learned to differentiate this.

His father always sounded like a sad song in the way he spoke and constructed his sentences. Very few people caught up on it and Louis was one of those few. He saw his father in a very different light compared to his mum for example. His mum always smiled dreamily at Louis’ father whenever he would say something so sad it made Louis’s heart clench, but all she would see was intelligent words from an intelligent man with a handsome face. And Louis guesses that’s how they worked; his father would speak of stars and neutron collisions like the end of the world was near, and his mother would adore Louis’ father, would cook and clean and obey his every command, feeling inferior to his knowledge.

Louis is not like that. Not even after they passed away. He refuses to be that constant sad song, sound tracking to several people’s lives that he cares dearly about.

Harry talks like a sad song sometimes though. Like right now.

Louis wasn’t really awake before the slow, quiet stream of words from Harry’s mouth started pouring. He was having such a nice dream and he was warm and content, letting images in his consciousness soothe him. But then there were movements, shuffling of the sheets and the loss of body heat followed by the words of a sad song.

The blue eyed boy slowly resurfaces from his sleep and he doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but Harry is right _there_ and Louis is so accustomed to the roughness of Harry’s voice in the morning.

“Stop, fuck, I don’t want to know.”

Harry’s upset. He only swears when he’s upset.

“Would you _stop_ saying that?”

 _Breathe, Louis_.

“Take care, okay? I’m hanging up.”

A few beats pass by.

“I _love_ him. For fucks sake, Michael, you know _nothing_.”

He chokes and fists the sheets, blinking his eyes open quickly before meeting Harry’s bewildered gaze.

“Who was that?” Louis says slowly.

Harry drops his phone then, lets it fall to the ground with a _thump_ , and looks down like he’s searching for the answer in the deep lines of his hands.

“Just a friend.”

Louis sits up and takes in the sight of Harry sitting at the edge of the bed with love bites and cross necklaces on his chest. “You’re lying.”

“No, I – it’s not what you think.”

“It’s _exactly_ what I think, Harry,” He says harshly, “I was hoping you’d tell me yourself but I’ve been waiting for _weeks_ now for you to get yourself together and be honest with me.”

“I _am_ honest with you, I love –“

“It’s not that. It’s the fact that you broke up with your _boyfriend_ because I came home. Why did you never tell me about him? I would’ve understood; I would’ve _trusted_ you! Hell, if he made you the happiest I would’ve supported you and stayed out of the way.”

“You know about –“

“Michael? Yes. I know all about him. But I wasn’t supposed to, was I?” Louis is angry now. He can feel it surging through his veins, he can feel the way it consumes him and explodes everywhere in little bombs of fury. So he gets out of bed and tries to ignore that he’s still naked from last night as he finds some boxers and a t-shirt in his bag. He turns around to watch Harry’s face crumple with emotion as the realisation dawns on him.

“Louis, I promise I didn’t – I didn’t –“

“You didn’t _what_ , Harry? Talk! Fucking _say_ something useful for once!” He’s rambling now and making wild, angry hand gestures towards the ceiling but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s kept this pent up for so long and he needs to let it go and who else would he take it out on than Harry? Harry is the one at fault, Harry is the one who lied, Harry is the one who is a _coward_.

Harry pulls and tugs at his hair, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes already swimming, “I was really down when you left and then I met Michael, and he was great, he made me feel okay again. If he hadn’t been there I would’ve – would’ve done terrible things, Lou, how could I not?” He’s looking up at Louis now so pure and wide eyed that Louis flinches, “Then you came back, but you didn’t come back for me, it wasn’t _me_. Your parents. I’m sorry – I didn’t know, like, what to do, but I knew that I love you and that I want to spend every single minute with you, please, Louis, _I love you_.”

“I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I haven’t lied to you!” Harry pleads.

“May be not, but you avoided telling me things because you were _scared_.”

“That’s not – that’s not why. I didn’t want you to deal with more shit. Your _parents_ , Lou.”

“Would you stop talking about my fucking parents!?”

“I’m sorry.” He mutters.

Louis sighs and watches solemnly as tears roll down the other boy’s reddened cheeks. But he feels no sympathy, no forgiveness – he just feels heavy like stone, like all gravity is directed right at him, like he’s drowning in water with chains around his feet.

“I need some air.”

Harry sniffles then and wraps his arms around himself. His biceps are flexing and his broad chest is heaving unevenly but he has never looked _smaller_. It’s like Louis is looking at post drunk Harry’s younger brother and it should be endearing, should rise loving emotions in Louis. But instead he just feels sorry for him; thinks that he’s pathetic.

So he leaves the room and ignores the prying gaze from Zayn in the kitchen. When the hell did Zayn get so expressive anyway? He’s supposed to be neutral, to look like he doesn’t give a fuck. Louis might have liked him better when he kept his guard up… but he also knows he won’t agree with these thoughts in the morning.

He doesn’t care about the rain anymore. It’s slightly cold but he doesn’t feel anything anyway except the wetness of the rain drops as they soak up his shirt. He stares at the perimeter around the house with big crooked trees that lean slightly over the big grass areas. He doesn’t spread his arms out and spin around like in the movies, he doesn’t open his mouth to catch the little drops on his tongue, he doesn’t fall into the arms of the one he loves with a wet, longing kiss to the lips. He doesn’t do any of that – instead, he just stares and notices that some of the trees look weird; like skinned hands that are reaching out for something that cannot be caught.

Louis cringes. He feels incinerated.

But he doesn’t cry, doesn’t let a single sob slip, doesn’t even close his eyes.

No, he just watches as the sky transforms, as the clouds evolve. It’s a slow progress and he could get sick by standing out here in the rain with wet clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He looks down, stubs the wet tips of his vans against the ground and when he looks up again there’s sunlight. It hasn’t stopped raining but there’s fucking _sunlight_ everywhere, creeping into every corner and creek.

Louis realises then that Harry is like this – Harry is like rain in sunlight. He shines so bright with happiness and love but there’s something melancholy about him too that Louis can’t put a finger on. He loves that part of him though; loves the way he furrows his brows as he jots down his pain in words, loves the way he grows so quiet sometimes that Louis feels sort of lost and loves the way he both sings and talks like sad songs. Sometimes he just wishes that things were easier and that he was better at handling Harry, better at admitting how he feels.

_Not a coward, not a coward, not a coward, not a coward._

He peels his t-shirt off, throws his vans by the patio door and walks back inside with lips so cold that it hurts. Zayn looks at him with a raised eyebrow as he walks back inside, only clad in boxers, leaving rain drops along his trail. He doesn’t say anything, just watches the other boy as he disappears down the hallway.

Louis walks into his and Harry’s shared room. He hears the water running in the shower and saunters in there without putting much thought into it. The bathroom is steamy and his lungs feels tired but he doesn’t walk back out to breathe. He undresses himself of his soaked boxers and ruffles his hair so it isn’t laying flat onto his forehead before taking the final step into the shower.

And he’s not alone. Of course he’s not alone because Harry is in there; soap gliding down his taut muscles, tattoos glistening with water and skin reddened from the heat.

“Lou?” Harry whispers, his hand freezing where it’s rubbing the loofah  into his shoulder.

Louis lets out a choked sob and wraps his arms around Harry, clinging to him as if Harry will disappear if he lets go. Harry gasps when Louis’ cold skin comes into contact with his own but it feels good too and the older boy is so familiar in his arms, like he belongs there.

“I love you so much,” Louis sighs.

“Love you too,” Harry responds huskily, “Look at me.”

Louis does and he suddenly feels vulnerable under the other boy’s wide, honest gaze.

“ _Heavy mitted love_ ,” Harry whispers on a melodic note before joining their lips. He tastes like soap and it’s so hot compared to the rest of Louis’ body which is still icy from the cold rain, but he revels in it, he lets Harry’s overheated body become one with his own. Louis scrapes his short nails over the other boy’s skin, sinks them deeper when Harry squeezes his ass cheeks. They rub against each other until Harry grows impatient and pushes Louis up against the slicked tiles, hitching Louis’ legs around his waist. Harry kisses his neck, sucks on the bones jutting out and fingers him open with the same kind of utter devotion set between his eyebrows as last time. He fucks Louis slowly, grasping Louis’ hips tightly, sinking Louis onto his cock at his own pace.

Louis loves it, loves being filled, loves the way Harry takes control. He arches his neck, goes all pliant in Harry’s strong arms and his mouth falls open as he gasps and moans. He looks blissful – like this is where he’s supposed to be. With Harry. Always with Harry.

They come together with their mouths close to each other and Harry dries Louis off, wraps him in a towel and tucks him into bed. He hovers over him for minute, peppers kisses all over his cheeks and whispers promises when he trails them down his neck.

“I’ll always choose you, Lou.”

Louis sighs and fists his hands in Harry’s hair as Harry’s lips reach his navel. There’s nothing casual about it, nothing unspoken, nothing unsettled. It feels good.

Harry lays his head right there on Louis’ belly like he’s listening for the beat of Louis’ heart, but then he starts humming a melody that Louis recognizes from somewhere, and he knows that Harry’s not.

They’re both exhausted again after the intense heat and closeness of each other in the shower, so they drift off, naked, save for the towels around their waists, and with Harry’s head planted firmly on top of Louis.

Zayn and Liam are gone when they wake up and they don’t speculate where they’ve gone off to – they just focus on the fact that Zayn and Liam are probably together; looking each other in the eyes, talking, _fixing_ what’s been broken and those are all good things.

Harry makes lasagna from scratch while Louis flutters around, swaying his hips, teasing Harry and emptying a bottle of wine with a waterfall of words falling from his lips.

“Do you think I should sell this place?”

“Definitely not!” Harry exclaims, “This is like the perfect hideout.”

“It’s old.”

“It’s charming.”

“Says the ultimate hipster.”

“You’re in an indie band, Lou,” Harry points out, “You can’t tease me for being a hipster. It’s, like, against the laws of physics.”

Louis laughs loudly, his voice ringing like bells, and he’s still giggling to himself when Harry orders him to set the table. He’s a bit unsteady on his feet now with the wine rushing through his blood system but he manages to carry the plates and glasses to the dining table without breaking anything. Harry laughs at him the entire time, enjoying how quickly Louis can become so drunk.

“So, do you think that the evil spirits of this house will haunt me if I redecorate this place?” Louis wonders, as he sets the knives and forks, eyeing the old olive green drapes by the windows that almost look grey from dust and age.

“Probably.”

“I like ghosts.”

“Don’t encourage them!” Harry cries and points sternly at Louis with a spatula, but his eyes are glinting and his lips are struggling not to smile and, honestly, it’s all quite endearing.

“Fine,” Louis says, “But I’m getting rid of the drapes. They’re awful.”

Harry grimaces and surrenders, “Okay, change the drapes. But the rest stays.”

Louis nods and grins to himself as he pours another glass of wine for himself and balances it between his trembling fingers. “May be I’ll buy pink ones.”

“Wonderful idea, love.”

He’s still grinning as he plugs the jack stick of the speakers into his iPhone and scrolls down till he finds _Gorillaz’_ “Dirty Harry”. In year 6 it was what they listened to all day long, eating greasy Nutella sandwiches and jotting down words in their notebooks for future songs. Sometimes they’d pick an object to write about and challenge each other with who could write most about that object in the time it took “Dirty Harry” to finish its millionth time of replaying. Then they’d mix the words together until they made sense, mix the objects together, mix their feelings into it and it’d become a song with the right amount of vagueness just how they wanted.

Most of the songs were a bit childish now, but Louis still likes them because they bring memories back, easier times, and they’re _youthful_ above all. Louis doesn’t really want to grow older.

Harry starts laughing when the first couple of notes have streamed from the speakers and Louis wants to kiss him. Devour him.

So he does.

He kisses the back of Harry’s neck, watches him squirm as it tickles.

“Louis,” Harry protests weakly.

“You’re so hot.” Louis breathes against the other boy’s skin as he shivers from the heated touches.

“I’m cooking, Lou.”

“Want to ride you.”

“Please.”

“Want you inside me so deep that I will never stop feeling sore.”

“Mmmh.”

“You have such a beautiful cock.”

“Ughh.”

“And your tongue. Want your tongue inside me again.”

“Fuck!” Harry exclaims then, pushing the older boy away gently, “I’m cooking, I-I – you’re drunk, babe, and the song’s over, go find a new one.”

Louis is in a fit of giggles then and his stomach is cramping a bit but he doesn’t care because _this_ – this is what he’s always wanted; the comfortableness, the love, the kisses, the touches, the utter devotion to each other. So he obeys Harry and finds a new _Gorillaz_ song just because he’s missed listening _to Demon Days_ with Harry. It’s a pretty great album, a timeless album, a memorable album.

And that’s when Zayn and Liam walk in – when Louis is jumping around on the sofas, seemingly playing the floor is made of lava with himself, and Harry is singing away with the tunes.

Louis grins at his best friends, lets out a pitchy squeal and runs into their arms, embracing them. They both smell like rain and fruity gum, and Zayn’s quiff is a little deflated but he still looks good like he always does.

“Hey!” Harry calls, “I made dinner!”

Liam and Zayn exchange wide, slightly fearful glances and detangle themselves from Louis to take in the state of things.

Zayn is the first to smile. “Looks good.” He says, a bit quietly, as he pulls off his leather jacket, casually throwing it on the armrest of one of the sofas.

“I set the table!” Louis says proudly.

Zayn and Liam exchange another one of those glances and then looks at Harry questioningly. Harry grins widely, dimples on a perverse display, and mouths _drunk_ while pointing at Louis. He’s not being particularly discreet but Louis doesn’t even notice, he’s too busy attempting at rapping the lyrics to _2 chainz_ while strutting around like a contestant in a beauty contest.

Both Liam and Zayn laugh then as they watch him because Louis truly _is_ the funniest drunk – along with Niall of course – and especially when they’re still sober themselves.

“Let’s just eat now before things get out of hand.”  Harry chuckles.

They get around the table and all the hostility, all the heart ache, all the pent up emotions seem to have vanished for the night. Instead there’s a buzz of energy and hopefulness in the air. It’s a nice change.

The food is good – the food is always good when it’s Harry's. He must have magic hands or something, Louis thinks to himself with a smirk.

He doesn’t remember who decides that they should play some music when they’re done eating, but he attempts at hitting the right keys of the little keyboard he brought along, but his fingers are too clumsy, there’s too much wine, too much excitement. So, eventually, he puts the keyboard down and sticks to just watching his best friend create music with their talents. Liam is drumming on boxes, Harry is playing guitar and humming a bit along with the melody while Zayn is fisting his hands tightly, until his knuckles are white, and sings with his heart and soul, turning the atmosphere around them into something completely different – into something unreal and magical.

It makes Louis feel sober again, a bit peaceful, as the flashbacks play behind his eyelids. They used to be younger and _better_ , but this is good too. This is _right_.

He grows cold at some point and glances at the unused fireplace. At first, he just looks at it for a bit, contemplating if he remembers how to go about this. He takes a metal rod and stirs a bit in the wood. It’s burnt, black at the edges, a bit shiny. There’s something white sticking out between two pieces of wood and Louis narrows his gaze before he reaches out for it. He loses his breath when he sees little words written on it in handwriting he would recognizes anywhere. He folds the paper before he can reach to read anything, deciding that he needs a little time to wrap his head around it; that there’s more to “Emma”.

It’s too cold here, he decides, and he scurries off into his room to find a sweater. It’s Harry’s sweater he gets his hands on first; it’s soft, a paled blue colour and it smells like summer nights spent in the crook of Harry’s neck. He touches the little holes on the front and cuddles it to his chest a bit before pulling it over his chest with a sigh of relief. He fumbles for his phone and for his headphones so he can let the music of his favourite band soothe him.

Louis is lying in bed when he realises that he misses feeling like having the entire world in his hands, like each turning corner is a new adventure. He misses the way each take off from a foreign airport made him smile through the exciting dizziness. But he misses Harry more and he would never leave again without him.

So he curls his fists around the sweater and tucks it close around his neck, waiting for warmth to find him. He can feel the paper weighing heavy in his pocket but he ignores it and tries to force himself into a slumber. His mind is reeling though and it’s a bit hopeless now. It’s too cold.

Louis gets up from the bed and paces restlessly around in the room, weighing his options. He can either read the rest of the paper and possibly get some weight off his chest or possibly have even more things to worry about. Or he could get Harry in here, strip him off his clothes and touch every inch of his skin until he would arch his back in pleasure.

He decides the latter might be the better option for now.

<> 

The rain continues to pound onto the windows, which is what wakes him up the next day. He walks around in the kitchen like a ghost, opening cupboards in search of his favourite cereal. He eats it slowly, chews until his jaw hurts, and he doesn’t really wake up until he watches Liam walk in there, quickly followed by Zayn. The two boys greet each other with a _good morning_ , and a small smile. It’s progress, it’s needed progress and it makes Louis smile too.

He figures Harry is still sleeping by the time he’s done with breakfast and he doesn’t bother checking because the note is still _so_ heavy in his pocket. He needs to read it despite whatever it may reveal.

Louis walks down the hallway and opens the door to the office, eyes beginning to water. He regrets ruining this room, and he should probably fix it up, but his mind is too crowded to handle it. He hums a melody to himself as he maneuvers himself through the labyrinth of pushed furniture and stacks of papers and books strewn everywhere to look out the window. He opens it and breathes in the scent of rain and grass and exhales with a satisfied sigh.

A while passes of peaceful silence with green, mushy surroundings that makes Louis feel better. Calmer. He buries his hand in his pocket, searching for the folded, burnt piece of paper. He unfolds it and stares at it first, without reading. He’s looking at the lines in the paper, the smudged ink, a fingerprint in the corner and the dark brown edges from the fireplace.

His eyes catch the first words mid-sigh and he continues with serenity settled inside him.

_“So apropos  
Saw death on a sunny snow_

_For every life  
forego the parable_

_Seek the light_   
_my knees are cold_   
  
_Running home_   
_Running home_   
_Running home_   
_Running home”_

He’s not sure he understand what it means, so he runs – no, _stumbles_ – to his room in search of the other half so he can piece it together. He reads the words fast and then again and again because he needs this to make sense.

_“Go find another lover to string along,_   
_With all your lies, you’re still very lovable_   
_I toured the light, so many foreign roads_

_For Emma_   
_Forever ago”_

Louis doesn’t know _anything_ , doesn’t understand _anything_. It’s like the words are foreign to him, as if they make no sense at all. Who the fuck is _Emma_? Running home _where_? Who _died_? He gets sad then and it’s been a while since he felt this kind of sadness, not even when he saw the white caskets with dirt stains on and the moistness beneath his sisters’ eyes. But maybe it’s all rushing back now, may be his time for sorrow has finally come, maybe he will be able to move on eventually.

No answers have been found though, the song isn’t solved and this entire _house_ is still a secret. Louis feels empty, cold. Unconnected.

Such melancholy feelings aren’t good for the soul. They tear at you, collide, bring back unwanted memories and force you to confront the things you’ve been ignoring. Above all the melancholy sadness, he feels disappointed – disappointed that the last half of the paper hasn’t led to any answers. He questions his father; why he was always so cryptic, so unsolved, so _sad_? Louis guesses he will never find out now.

He spends a few more minutes looking at the two pieces of paper but eventually folds it neatly to place it on his night stand. He can hear the boys laughing in the living room but Louis feels no urge to join them and let them cheer him up.

He needs more sleep. More time.

<> 

There are lips pressed briefly to Louis’ eyelids when he wakes up.

“Love?”

A thumb brushes his cheekbone softly.

“You’ve slept for so long. I think you need to eat a little.”

Louis grunts and rests the side of his face in the palm of Harry’s hand. “’M not hungry.”

“At least have some water, love.”

He blinks his eyes open and the soft light from the lamp on Harry’s night stand feels so sharp and bright and he immediately wishes himself back in the darkness of his eyelids.

“Okay.” Louis surrenders then. His voice is hoarse and weak but Harry smiles at him like he’s the angel of the sun.

The younger boy disappears to get water from the kitchen. Louis blinks once, maybe twice, and then Harry is back again, kneeling at the edge of the bed. He hands Louis the glass of water and watches satisfied as he gulps down the water quickly.

“You okay?”

Louis’ gaze drops. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“About fourteen hours.”

“Sorry.”

“You needed it.” Harry says.

Louis smiles sadly in return and he doesn’t know what makes Harry do it, but Harry leans in, an arm on either side of Louis, and dips his lips into the hollow of Louis’ collarbones. It makes the older boy squirm and tug at Harry’s soft hair.

“It will be okay. You will know when the time is right.” Harry says in a whisper, and he’s looking up at Louis with eyes so dark and green like oak leaves reflecting in the surface of a lake when the sun has fallen and the moon has risen. He’s breathing onto Louis’ skin like a quiet breeze and his hands are firm in the way moonlight captures everything it falls upon. Screw rain in sunlight, screw the sadness, screw the little colour reflections in the rain drops because right now Harry is like the _night_ , and Louis is having flashbacks from that drunken evening on the blanket which makes it much harder to _breathe_. He needs touches – more touches – and Harry will give it to him when the lights are turned off and their eyes are closed. Harry will map him out in blindness and Louis will respond in soft puffs of breath until all walls will break.

<> 

They find a dead rabbit in the woods the next day. Louis and Harry went out for a walk in the parts of the woods that are closest to the house, fearful of getting lost in the massiveness of nature if they get too far out. They find the rabbit half hidden under a tree. It’s white, pure and white, but it has dark red colouring in its fur and it takes Louis a while to realise that it’s blood. The rabbit is ripped up on its womb and it still looks fresh, blood slowly trickling out what seems to be a bite mark.

“Poor thing.” Harry murmurs against his sleeve, eyes wild.

Louis squints and takes a step back.

“You think we should bury it?”

“No.” Louis says quietly. “Circle of life, I guess. Burying it wouldn’t be right.”

The other boy hums to himself and clenches his hands into fists. “I wanna go back, Lou.” He sounds – he _looks_ – like a little boy suddenly, desperate for safety and affection. And Louis feels the moment pass so painfully slow like the last note on the songs Zayn writes when he’s gone.

Gone, gone, gone.

Louis has been gone, _is_ gone. He wants to come back now though, he’s done walking around in the shadow of his consciousness. He’s done looking at Harry like he’s not even really here. Louis is the one who has been gone the whole time. Not Harry, not even Zayn.

So he takes Harry back and they walk quietly, hands brushing with each step.

Harry sits down on the couch, glazed eyes and hands itching for a pen and his notebook. Louis gets it for him, no words spoken, and Harry looks at Louis like he’s the sun when he lays it on coffee table in front of him. He watches Harry write for a bit but grows impatient and paces around like there are answers written in the walls.

It’s then that his phone rings and the background displays apple cheeks, creased smiles and young eyes.

“Lottie?”

“Louis,” His sister breathes. There’s relief in her voice and she makes his name sound like a resolution.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s – fine, I just, _please_ , when are you coming back? I don’t’ think I can do this much longer, the twins ask for you every day and I don’t know what to tell them.” The relief disappears, her voice breaks on the last word, and Louis visualises her expression down to every detail. It makes his heart clench and he _misses_ them, he really does.

“Soon. I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t lie to me anymore, Louis. We need you _here_.” She sounds wrecked like the gentlest touch will break her. He knows she’s on the edge of crying because he remembers the way her voice transformed into something so very fragile like the sound of glass falling onto concrete.

“I. I. Will come back. I promise, sweetie. Okay?”

“Tell me when.”

“I don’t know when, but I’ll call you when I figure it out?”

“No, fuck, Louis, it needs to be now. I need to _know_.”

His eyes widen because since when did his sister grow, since when did she _swear_? He frowns and pinches the bridge of his nose because he’s been gone for _too fucking long_. “Fr-Friday.”

“Friday?”

“Friday,” Louis says, “I’ll be back Friday.”

He listens to his sister cry for a bit and they exchange a lot of _I love you’s_ but they never mention their parents, never talk about what occasion they last saw each other at, never acknowledge the fact that some things are missing.

<> 

It turns out time gets truly fucked up when you’re in the middle of nowhere, tucked far away from civilisation. Louis realises after twenty minutes of staring at the calendar on his phone that it’s Wednesday, which means Friday is the day after tomorrow. Two days? Two days. One and a half, may be.

He’s not sure how to break it to the other three boys; that he has to go home and take care of his sisters. He’s not sure if they still want to stay here or if they’d be willing to go home with Louis now, even though they agreed to stay here all summer, and as far as he can tell from looking at his calendar, they’re only about two-thirds through the summer.

So he waits till Thursday night when they’re all smashed and making grabby hands at each other because it’s the only moment that seems _right_ to him.

“So, heyyy – Harry, could you – yeah, the music – thanks, babe,” Louis says and all of him is coloured in blissful happiness, “The thing is, I have to go home tomorrow, and, like, you can come with me if you  want, but you can stay too, yeah?”

“What? Why?” Harry says and he looks worried, of course he looks worried.

“I have to go back home. Lottie called yesterday.”

“Lottie?”

“Lottie, my _sister_ , Harry.”

“Oh.” Harry falls back into the couch with a dumbfounded expression upon his face. There’s silence between them now, nothing but a quiet murmuring of music coming from Harry’s speakers. Louis’ gaze drops and he begins to consider that he might have to go back alone.

“Of course, we’ll go back with you.” Liam says firmly, eyeing the two other boys.

“Yeah, of course.” Harry says quickly.

The corners of Zayn’s mouth turn up a bit as he nods in agreement, and Louis closes his eyes in relief because he doesn’t want to drive that far alone. There are too many foreign roads. He thinks back on the breakfast they shared, which seems so long ago, when he asked them to come with him up here. Now they’re willing to go back with him, unscheduled. Louis loves them so much and they love him back and it’s what he lives for; these boys and his sisters.

The rest of the night passes in laughter and Louis both falls asleep and wakes up feeling happy. But there’s still something weird about packing all their stuff to leave this house abandoned once again; a strange atmosphere.

Harry looks dazed, hungover and fucked out from the thrusts of Louis’ hips as he finally got his turn last night. He’s being incredibly slow at packing his stuff and his feet are dragging across the floor with each step but his lips are constantly pursed in a half-smirk, and Louis decides that’s a win.

It’s almost noon when the boys are buckled up in Harry’s car and Louis is doing one last tour of the house, opening doors to check if they forgot anything. He only finds Zayn’s toothbrush in a bathroom and a pair of his own socks half-hidden under the bed he slept in. He looks at the disheveled state of the office with a defeated sigh and decides he will come up here soon and do everything right. On his way out, he grabs a picture hanging on the wall in the hallway of his parents and sisters and Louis himself, because it’s nice, and a picture of all of them together is incredibly rare. He will hang this up back home instead.

“Ready?” Liam asks, turning around in his seat to eye Louis and Harry.

“Ready.” Louis replies softly.

Liam starts the engine and drives the car out on the gravel road that’s leading back into the real world and out of this peacefulness. Louis turns his head to get one last look at the house before coming back again, and his breath gets caught in his throat and tears well up in his eyes because he should’ve figured it out.

 _Emma_.

She’s right there. _It’s_ right there.

He remembers Niall asking upon arriving here why the name “Emma” is carved into the front of the house. It’s so painfully obvious now. _Emma_ was never a person, never a girl, which his dad possibly had an affair with. No, it was never anything like that. _Emma_ is a _place_. This place, to be exact.

It’s a place for facing problems, revealing hidden things and figuring out resolutions. It’s a place for mending broken strings, for letting your mind run free and for fresh air to breathe. _Emma_ is a _saving_.

There’s a curly haired boy sitting next to Louis with little round bruises on the side of his neck and birds with heart eyes peaking up above his low cut shirt. That boy is smiling at Louis, that boy is grasping Louis’ hand, that boy is mouthing _I love you_ with eyes staring straight into Louis’ eyes.

And then there’re two boys sitting in the front of the car; one with hazy but loving eyes and one with responsibility etched into the deep contours of his strong hands. There’s even a boy back home in London who’s waiting impatiently for their arrival with reddened pale cheeks of excitement. 

There’re his sisters who are still so young, but _growing_ rapidly, and they _need_ Louis. And there’s his aunt who is willing to do absolutely everything for him and his sisters.

He will keep the house in London for now and wait for Lottie to grow old enough so they can make a mutual decision about it, and he might go to university, he might study anthropology or photography or maybe even something ridiculous like philosophy. He might get a real job, he might start saving up, he might bring his whole family to _Emma_ to celebrate Christmas this year and he might actually learn how to cook a proper Christmas dinner. He might go travelling again next summer and this time it _will_ be with a sun kissed Harry at his side. This time it will be better. This time Louis won't be a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thank you for sticking with this story. As for my interpretation of Bon Iver's song "For Emma", I'm aware that it isn't correct and that Emma was a real person in Justin Vernon's life, but I decided to fit it to my story. I hope any of you hardcore Bon Iver fans won't be offended by this. 
> 
> If any of you are up for an epilogue for Lonely King or have prompt ideas for a new Gryles or Tomlinshaw fic, then please comment or inbox me on my blog: hazzazfrosting.tumblr.com


	7. Epilogue: Tonight it will be summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done with the epilogue! This will clear up some things about Harry. It will also be the final of Lonely King. Thanks for sticking with me xx

It’s Monday. Louis’ first class starts at 2:30 this afternoon so he’s sleeping in. He can still feel a lingering kiss to his cheek from when Harry left early this morning. There are dirty clothes on the floor and the scent of Harry’s cologne is leaking from the bathroom.

Louis gets up, he feels the wooden floor creak beneath his bare feet and the goose bumps rise on his skin as it’s met with the unheated air of their flat. He pads across the floor quickly, Harry’s white cotton t-shirt hanging off his shoulder to turn the kettle on. Tea. He needs tea.

He sits in their faded red love seat by the window and watches the dust reflect in little spectrums of rainbow colours as he burns the tip of his tongue on the hot tea. He’s got nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about except that test on Wednesday and the two papers that are due on Friday. But he feels good about it – it’s a good kind of worry, sort of strangely comforting in the way that it’s reminding him that he’s not wasting his life. He’s a university student now, majoring in photography, and yesterday one of his teachers told him, with a hint of life in his voice, that Louis is bright eyed and spontaneously controversial, and that might be one of the most beautiful things someone has ever said to him, if all the magnificent lyrics that Harry continuously sings to him isn’t.

Harry has gotten a job at a record shop through a friend of a friend and he works ridiculous hours, leaving early in the morning and coming home in the middle of dinner time. They mostly end up eating half-cold takeaway on the couch, tangled into each other for warmth in these winter months but it’s _nice_ , and that’s what Louis focuses on when he spends mornings like these alone.

He glances at the clock above the stove. One-thirty. He should probably get dressed. He rummages through his closet and opts for the jeans he wore yesterday that were tossed aimlessly on the floor along with a light grey sweater. He tugs one of Harry’s beanies down over his fluffy hair, deciding he’s too lazy to comb it.

There’s no milk in the fridge, he concludes, and he needs milk for his cereal. So he stumbles to the door as he tries to put on his shoes and walk at the same time, and it’s in the exact moment as he reaches for the handle that someone knocks on the door on the other side and everything freezes up inside Louis.

He opens the door in one swift go and he does a sharp intake of breath as he’s met with familiar green eyes and pale skin. For a split second, he thinks it’s Harry because all he sees are those green eyes with dark rings and gold speckles in the middle. But then he realises that it’s not Harry, because Harry doesn’t have straight long hair, Harry doesn’t wear mascara, Harry doesn’t wear high-heeled boots and leather gloves and Harry just isn’t a _girl_.

“Can I help you?” Louis says then because the girl doesn’t say anything. She just keeps staring at Louis with wide eyes and her mouth agape.

“Uh, yes, hi! I’m Gemma Styles. Are you Harry Edwards?”

“No, I’m Louis… Tomlinson. Harry is my boyfriend and he’s not here right now.” He replies a bit tentative.

Gemma’s eyes widen even more and then she smiles a big toothy grin, dimples deepening in each cheek, and it hits Louis again how shockingly she looks like the girl version of Harry.

“Nice to meet you,” She says, “I, um, well, this is kind of unusual, and I don’t know how much you know and how much Harry knows, but – I’m Harry’s sister. I’ve been searching for him for quite some time. Do you think I could come in?”

Louis feels stunned. Surely Harry never mentioned a _sister_ , he said he is an only child, and Louis almost feels a pang of pain in his chest because what if Harry is hiding more lies, what if Harry is hiding another _life_?

“Sure.” He mutters because what else is he supposed to _do_?

“Thank you.”

He takes his shoes off and turns on the kettle again, feeling light-headed and confused. Gemma thanks Louis when he gives her a cup of steaming hot tea and there’s a heavy silence where he starts to notice the mess of dirty clothes and records and used plates taking up space in the small living room.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” Gemma asks gently.

“Six years.”

“You’ve been together for that long?”

“No, not like that. We’ve only been a couple for a year and a half or so.”

She hums to herself and sips her tea. Louis glares at the dark red polish on her nails as if it will give any answers. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing and what the fuck is going on.

“I’m of the impression that you most definitely didn’t know about me?”

Louis nods and meets her gaze for a brief moment.

“Well, as I said, I don’t know how much Harry knows either and it might not be my place to tell, but now I’m going to anyway.”

He motions for her to continue with slightly trembling hands when she stops talking to bite her lip out of nervousness.

“Harry’s adopted.”

He blinks once, twice, and keeps staring, waiting, for further explanation.

“I was only three years old when my mum gave birth to Harry. My father left us when she got pregnant again and he never looked back, never came to visit us, never sent me birthday presents or anything. In addition, we didn’t have a lot of money. Barely enough for food and clothes, much less to take care of a newborn baby. So, my mum decided to get Harry adopted, hoping that he would have a better childhood and a better future than what we had to look forward to.”

“What made you want to find him?” Louis muses.

Her gaze falls to the ground and she starts fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Louis feels the air change from curious excitement and hopefulness to something completely else. Her gentle voice is thicker when she speaks again, “Mum died last year in August of breast cancer. I’ve felt lonely since then. I have lots of friends but I don’t have any family except Harry, and I thought that it might be time to try and get to know him, to mend the broken bonds, if not for myself, then for my mum. She would have wanted me to.”

He nods, sinks a lump and feels something like worry settle in his bones.

“Do-do you think Harry would want to talk to me? I really want to meet him, but I… I would understand if he doesn’t.”

“Yeah. I’ll, uhm, talk to him?”

She nods, the corners of her lips turning up a bit as Louis notices her eyes having turned shiny. “Thank you, Louis.” She says slowly. “Are you close with Harry’s adoptive family?”

“I’ve only met his mum a few times. He doesn’t really like talking about his family.”

“Oh,” She mutters, face falling.

“Harry is a very complicated person and he doesn’t trust people easily, so I suggest for you to not come on to him too strong or he will close in on himself. If he wants to open up to you, then he will. You need to be careful with the questions or he will feel like he’s being interrogated.”

“Of course. I’ll be gentle.” She nods.

“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to kick you out, but I have to go to class. How about you give me your number and I’ll call you tomorrow? We can talk some more, maybe I could bring Harry too.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! I didn’t mean to interrupt you like this but I only had this address so I just thought I’d show up.”

“Don’t worry about it, Gemma.”

They exchange numbers and Louis promises to call her tomorrow with an easy smile. She’s delighted with Louis’ helpfulness and he starts to feel a bit nauseated because he’s afraid he can’t promise as much as he’d want to. In fact, he’s pretty certain that Harry won’t feel fine about any of this at all, and when Louis grabs Gemma’s half empty tea cup to put it in the dishwasher, he can’t help but notice how his fingers are still trembling a bit.

<> 

Louis is on the couch, papers spread out everywhere with notes in the margins and little scribblings of Harry’s name in the corners, when the other boy comes home. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is windblown, falling messily into his eyes. He smiles dazedly at Louis like he’s squinting at the sun, throws his backpack on the floor and stumbles onto Louis.

“Hey, you.” He grins and dips his lips down slowly.

“Hey.”

“How was your day?” Harry asks and nuzzles his nose into the hollow of Louis’ neck.

“Good. Better now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmm.” Louis grins and catches the other boy’s lips again. And time disappears like that, it slips through their fingers like sand, dries off like water on their skin, fades away in the time it takes light to blink. When Harry starts to murmur little words of praising poetry into the dips of Louis’ collarbones, Louis starts to feel anxious and a bit like this is bitter sweet situation. Because Harry needs to know about Gemma and he knows that Harry will react rather negatively… but this is so _nice_ , and his reluctance to ruin these passing moments are tearing at him. But Harry needs to know.

“Haz –“

“Shh.”

“No, I need to talk to you, I –“

“Let me just –“ Harry whispers, lips caressing Louis’ ear, “—make love to you:”

The older boy trembles beneath him. “Harry, please,” He whimpers.

But Harry misunderstands Louis’ plea, and rides his shirt up instead. Their breathings are ragged, faltering, and Louis feels his veins shooting sparks but things need to be solved. He’s done procrastinating and ignoring problems.

“We need to talk.” Louis says more firmly then.

“About _what_?” Harry frowns and the annoyance is clear in his voice. Louis wishes he didn’t feel so obligated because he can’t help but cringe at this tone of voice – this tone of voice that Harry only uses so rarely.

“I – uhm, today, right…” He sits up a bit, straightens his shirt out and meets the other boy’s demanding gaze, “This girl stopped by. Gemma. She said she’s your sister, and that you’re a-adopted.”

“You talked to her?” Harry says, voice raising several octaves and knuckles going white around Louis’ hips.

“Well, yeah, of course I talked to her. You look so much alike, and I’m sure that she –“

“I don't have any family, Louis, and fuck, this is none of your fucking business. I don't want you sticking your nose into my shit.”

“I didn’t stick my nose into your shit. She came here and knocked our goddamn door! What else was I supposed to do? _Ignore her_?”

“I don't want to talk about this.”

"Well, I do!" Louis shouts with furrowed brows and a faltering strength inside him. He looks Harry in the eyes then and finally notices – Harry looks absolutely broken like this. Red-rimmed, hollow eyes, lips set in a tight line and with a skin that’s paling along with the winter sky. Louis thinks he knows some of the feelings that might be welling up in Harry right now. He remembers them from that first summer they spend at _Emma_. He remembers the anger with himself for being helpless and the anger towards everyone else for never fucking understanding. He remembers the fear of losing yourself and being rejected by the people you love. He remembers the feeling of being betrayed, the apathy, the hurt and the confusion. And it felt like it was all carved into your bones, permanent tattoos running along your veins.

“You have to talk to her. You have to meet her, Harry.”

“No.” The other boy says, lips pursed in defiance and eyes narrowed to stop the tears.

“Why the fuck not? You should have seen her face! She will be fucking devastated if I tell her you won’t.”

“Just stay out of this!” Harry hisses and gets up from the couch, harshly jostling Louis’ legs. He has his fist clenched around a strand of curly hair and he looks like he’s absolutely losing it.

“No.”

“Louis,” The younger boy warns.

“Fuck you, Harry. Just _fuck_ you. I deserve to know what the hell is going on! Did you know about her? Did you know that you’re adopted? Is that why you never see your family?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Even more reason for me to know about it.”

Harry sighs then, paces around and tugs at the sleeves of his jumper. He still looks angry, but it has deflated a bit, and the helplessness is beginning to overshadow. “I’ve known I was adopted since I was seven, okay? It’s no big deal.”

“How is that _no big deal_?”

“Because, it just isn’t, Louis. And don’t try to make it. I’ve accepted that I’m unwanted and I’ve moved on from that. Can we drop this now?”

“Most definitely not.”

Harry stops pacing around and looks at the other boy with a deep frown. “I’m leaving.” He says and starts in the direction of the door. Louis shoots up from the couch like a lightning bolt and gets his hand around Harry’s shoulder from behind. Harry shakes his hand off with a hiss, but it only spurs Louis on to jump in front of him and to put his hands on Harry’s chest.

“Please, Haz. Don’t run away.”

Harry opens his mouth and he looks like he’s about to say something hurtful, something that will make Louis cry, something that will never be forgotten, but then he closes his mouth again and his gaze falls to the floor.

“You are not unwanted,” Louis whispers and puts a hand on the side of Harry’s face, “You were never unwanted and you never will be. _I_ , for one, need you so fucking much that it hurts to think about.”

Harry’s expression softens slightly but he still looks ready to explode, to run, to do stupid, regrettable things.

“Please stay and talk to me.”

He’s silent for a long time, trying to avoid Louis’ prying gaze. “Okay,” The younger boy croaks with green eyes that look so deep and glistening.

Louis lets his hand fall from Harry’s face and takes his hand instead, gently pulling him towards the couch again. He feels a bit vulnerable now with all the feelings he’s just laid out in the open, because it’s not something he does. He doesn’t love in powerful words and pleas and sweet compliments. He loves in snarky remarks, teasing comments and soft kisses to flushed cheeks. But this is Harry, and Harry needs to _know_ , because he doesn’t always understand the sort of love that Louis gives. So he will _tell_ him.

They sit down, close to each other and with their hands intertwined.

“Tell me about it,” Louis whispers softly.

Harry lets out a heavy breath and licks his lips. “Everything I remember before I turned seven is good things. Happy memories. I had a lot of friends, I took guitar lessons twice a week, my mum made enchiladas every Thursday, and on Sundays, the only day that my dad was off work, he’d help me practice playing guitar. We’d construct melodies and write words for them that never really fit. But they did fit somehow.”

He sighs and his fingers twitch a little in Louis’ hand. “But shortly after my seventh birthday, my parents started fighting, and when summer came around, they got divorced. I overheard a phone conversation my mum had with my grandma and she mentioned that I was adopted, she was crying too, and I didn’t really understand it at first, but I didn’t question it either. Anyway, my dad got a new girlfriend shortly after. In the following year, I met her a handful of times and around my eighth birthday, dad and her moved to Manchester for my dad’s work. I think they got married on a beach in Caribbean a few years ago.”

“My mum never really got over the divorce. She got this distant look in her eyes and stopped paying attention to me. She paid attention to other things like her stupid sitcoms and the wine cabinet. Instead, I made friends with a bad crowd around the age of twelve. They were a lot older than me and I’ve done things I probably shouldn’t have. Not at such an early age, at least. We moved to London when I got expelled from the third school, but it wasn’t because of that. She’d met a guy from London and he’d asked her to move in with him. I became nothing but a disadvantage to her and her new life, so I kept to myself and stayed out of her way. Last time I saw her was for my birthday.”

Louis squeezes the other boy’s hand and purses his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need sympathy, Louis. I’m happy now.”

“I know,” He mutters, “But Gemma isn’t happy. And I think that you could be even happier than you are now.”

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“At least just talk to her. I promise I won’t ever mention her again if you just meet her this one time.”

Harry looks at Louis then and he looks tired, still utterly broken and with paleness that Louis wants to kiss away.

“Please, Haz, I’m fucking begging you. Don’t make me have to call her just to tell her that you don’t want to see her.”

Harry drops his gaze to their hands and lightly traces a pattern in Louis’ palm as the silence goes on.

“She’s – Harry, it’s _family_ ,” He whispers and drops his forehead onto the other boy’s shoulder, “Do it for me, then.”

Harry slumps then because he knows what Louis is talking about. He knows that Louis doesn’t have the liberty of this kind of choice – whether or not you want to see a family member so close. Half of it is gone now, floating around in space, heaven or whatever kind of world that exist after death that isn’t confined by any kind of atmosphere.

“Okay.” The younger boy says finally.

Louis sinks a lump and falls again Harry’s chest in relief. Harry just wraps his arms around Louis and kisses the side of his neck as if he is sealing the promise.

<> 

 It’s snowing the day that Harry is meeting Gemma, but the sun is still shining, making all the little snowflakes look like glitter falling from the sky. They are walking down the street, holding glove-covered hands and each other’s sanity. They have warm winter jackets on, beanies over their hair and scarves around their necks, and Louis feels so sated and warm like this. He almost thinks that if he should fall down and die this very instant, it would be with peace in mind.

He called Gemma a few nights ago to arrange where they could meet, and he knew that she was crying as they agreed on a cosy café a few streets away from their own flat. He really hopes that things go well today, not only for Gemma’s sake, but also for Harry’s, even though he’s convinced that he doesn’t need it to.

“Which café did you say it was?” Harry says, briefly glancing at the other boy.

“That small one the corner of Old Street with the Moroccan patterned stars hanging in the window. Forgot the name.”

Harry nods and visibly sinks a lump, eyes clouded and hand tightening around Louis’.

Once they reach the corner they stop walking and turn to look at each other. Harry’s attention is fleeting, gaze flickering between faces and cars and the twinkly lights that adorn the surrounding trees, but never looking at the windows of the café.

“Are you -… Are you gonna come in with me?”

Louis gives a small smile and presses a glove covered hand to the other boy’s cheek, slightly caressing his cooled skin. “I think it’s best if it’s just the two of you.”

Harry closes his eyes and breathes out heavily, concentrating on Louis’ warm presence. “Okay. Okay, it’ll be fine.”

“’Course it will.”

Louis feels better then and he finds himself really smiling now.

“I’ll pick up some dinner on the way home, yeah?” Harry says fond eyed and quiet.

Louis nods, “Good luck, babe.” He stands on the tips of his toes and kisses Harry’s lips, trying to channel all his support and love into it.

Harry stares at Louis for a moment, as if he’s contemplating something, but then he nods slightly to himself and turns around to go into the café.

Louis stands outside for a bit, trying to get a glance through the windows, but the light reflection is bad and there are people covering his view. He changes his angle to get a better look, and gets his eye on Harry. He’s approaching a table by the far wall. Louis catches the sight of Gemma then, and she’s smiling widely as she gets up from the chair and throws her arms around Harry’s neck. He staggers back and for a few seconds it looks like he doesn’t know where to put his arms, but then he wounds his arms around her, crushing her to his chest. They turn a bit in their embrace and Louis can see that they’re both smiling.

He sticks his hands in his pockets and tugs his beanie down, feeling happiness well up in him because this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

<> 

There are twinkling lights set up in their entire flat because Harry thought it would be nice – for Christmas, for Louis’ birthday and to watch from the couch as their eyes fall shut at night. Louis didn’t really want anything for his birthday, knowing that it’s Christmas Eve and there are a lot of other things to focus on, but Harry wouldn’t have it. So there’s people in their flat, laughing and chatting, and the Christmas Eve dinner is switched out with a wide range of liquors and a huge punch bowl.

Zayn is by the window talking to his separate group of grungy friends that Louis never really learned to get along with, but they’re all here and they brought presents, so he appreciates it more than words can say. Liam is in the couch area with some other people, listening to Niall telling some big, dramatic story. Niall is already slurring a bit but his eyes have never been brighter, and there’s a pretty brunette girl blushing every time his gaze lands on her. Josh enrolled at the University of Cardiff and it is a three hour drive from London, so things with them kind of faded out. Louis is not sure how Josh is doing, but he was never really friends with him like that anyway. He takes Niall’s happy mood as a cue to stop worrying about it.

Harry, as always, has his hand fisted in Louis’ shirt to make Louis stay with him. It’s not because he’s being clingy or horny or anything like that. No, it’s because of Nick Grimshaw and his _clique_. Louis has no fucking clue where Harry met these C-list celebrities, but there’s about seven of them here in Harry and Louis’ shitty flat, and they’re all dressed in a mix of Gucci and luxury vintage. Kind of ridiculous, if you ask Louis.

He eventually escapes from Harry and the Grimshaw-clique and watches the party evolve with satisfaction. There are all kinds of happiness shining out of everyone's eyes. He's not sure if it's just a Christmas spirit that is lurking, but nonetheless, the people crowding his and Harry's flat seem utterly happy. Louis is chatting with some of his mates he used to play football with back in school when Gemma bursts through the door with wide, glistening eyes and flushed winter cheeks. She has never before resembled Harry so much. Louis excuses himself from the conversation and aims in her direction to greet her welcome.  
   
"Louis! I'm so sorry, we were so busy at work, my boss wouldn't let me off and traffic was being a right twat," She says, the words rushing past her lips, as she throws her arms around him. He staggers back a step or two, surprised at her sudden affection, but he smiles to himself and hugs her back.  
  
"Don't worry about it. You didn't miss anything." He laughs.   
   
"Happy birthday, Louis," She says instead, voice slightly muffled by the collar of Louis' shirt.   
   
"Thanks, Gemma."  
   
"I'm so happy that you invited me here." She's whispering now, and Louis almost shivers because he can feel all the emotions her tone of voice is laced with.  
   
"Always," He replies slowly, "Harry's been waiting for you."  
   
"Yeah?" She says, pulling back.  
   
Louis nods and grins at her. He helps her get her coat off and takes her present with gratefulness. He leads her to Harry and he will never forget that moment. Gemma is walking with confidence but Louis notices the little shakes in her ankles as the soles of her Oxford shoes hit the floor. Harry is looking away but something must change in the air because his gaze flickers around and falls upon his sister. His whole face cracks into something else. Something golden and rare. Something that needs to be handled with care. He immediately wraps her up in his arms and the tension in her shoulders releases the same time that a single tear drop from Harry’s eyes falls onto her bare shoulder, and it’s the same time that a silent acceptance has finally come through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some feedback and make day!! xx thank you

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated xx
> 
> \- Hazzazfrosting.tumblr.com


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